Dear fellow parent,

The lights are everywhere now — twinkling windows, shopfront sparkle, that faint glow that makes even the rain look kind.
It’s lovely, and it’s a lot.

After leaning in to the body’s quiet sense of belonging last week, we turn the compass to E — Engage.

In Now and Next™, this means taking small, doable steps that grow from our strengths.
When the season feels overwhelming, engagement isn’t another list; it’s how we stay present inside what’s already happening.

Each of us carries strengths that steady us.
Maybe yours is humour that lightens a tense dinner table, or creativity that turns wrapping paper scraps into a masterpiece, or persistence that keeps traditions alive.

Occupational Therapy reminds us that meaningful participation often happens through the smallest gestures.
So notice which strength your body is reaching for this week.
Perhaps your hands are itching to bake, your shoulders to hug, your voice to sing along (even off-key).
Let those impulses count as engagement; they are the body’s way of saying, “I’m here.”

The Now and Next™ programmes begin with vision — what matters most right now—and then finds one small step toward it.
So, pause and ask:
What do I want to feel more of this season?

If the answer is connection, joy, or calm, choose one tiny action that supports that vision.
Invite your child to light the candles.
Send a simple message to someone you miss.
Share one “strength spot”: “I love how gently you helped your brother today.”

Families thrive on these micro-actions; they build relational muscle the way daily stretches build physical flexibility and mobility.

When you name a strength or take a small step toward connection, you shift from reacting to creating.
And creation — no matter how humble — is the birthplace of wonder.

A Glimpse Ahead

Next time, we’ll move toward the “A” in our L-E-A-D framework: Adapt — meeting the parts of us that try to make everything perfect and inviting them to rest beside us.

Before you close this email, take a breath for yourself, and a breath for your child.
Not the child in the photos or performances —the child who teaches you to start small and stay real.

May we engage through tiny, genuine acts of care.
May we remember that connection is built one moment at a time.
And may the ladybird blink awake under a strand of tinsel, reminding us that even the smallest movement can brighten the dark.