Happy Valentine’s Day.
I want to tell you a love story.
A mom from one of my classes, someone I’ve known for years now, hosts tea ceremonies. Small, intimate groups. No agenda. No multitasking. Just warmth in a cup, stillness in the body, and presence with one another. I’ve been a handful of times, and it’s always transformative. Lately, I’ve been letting the invitations expire in my inbox. I want to …I mean to go. But then the to-do list wins. The emails win. The “maybe next time” wins.
This week, I went.
And I sat. And somewhere between the first pour and the last, I lost myself in it. The kind of losing yourself that is actually finding yourself. Getting back to center.
Here’s the thing: That mom found RIE when her first baby was small. And years later, when her last baby was small, she knew she needed it again and this time found me. And there we were today…not in a Parent-Infant Guidance class, not talking about toddlers…just being together. That’s what RIE builds. It starts with how we care for babies, but it becomes something more. A way of being with people. A community rooted in respect and presence and showing up…for children, yes, but also for each other.
If that’s not a love story, I don’t know what is.
And it’s the kind of love story that keeps growing. Because that feeling…of being in a room (or on a screen) with people who see the world the way you do, who see children the way you do….that’s what happens at our Conference, too. Every year. Without fail.
And before you close this email, thinking the Conference isn’t for you, I want you to think about what’s happening in the world right now. I know. I don’t want to either. It’s frightening and angering and just every kind of awful. And when things feel heavy, it’s natural to pull inward. To say “maybe next time.” To let the to-do list win.
But this work is the antidote to that heaviness. The way we raise children with RIE: the trust we place in them, the value we give to play and exploration, the belief that who they are right now is enough…this is what changes things. Not someday. Now. One child, one family, one caregiver at a time.
For two days in March, we will gather – on screens and in person – and it will be an oasis.
March 27–28, 2026
Nature’s Path for Play — Creating Conditions for Authentic Playfulness
Dr. Peter Gray is our Saturday keynote. If you haven’t read his book Free to Learn, I sat down with it last month and by page 6 I was reaching for a highlighter. When I looked up again I was on page 95. He’s that good, and the alignment between what he says about older children and what we know about infants is breathtaking.
Ani Shabazian opens Friday with a presentation on creating safe, healthy, developmentally appropriate spaces for infants. And then there are 14 workshops over two days. Fourteen. Practitioners from around the world exploring how children learn regulation through relationship, what play-centered programs look like beyond toddlerhood, how to design infant-toddler curriculum grounded in the Educaring® Approach, what it looks like to launch respectful care programs in China, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Melbourne. There’s a workshop where you get to play (yes, you: the grown-up). A session on how right-brain neuroscience helps explain what we see in this work. A tribute to one of our most beloved mentors, Liz Memel. And so much more.
Friday (March 27) is entirely online, with concurrent sessions throughout the day, so you get to pick the workshops that excite you most. Saturday (March 28) is in-person at The Orchard in Northridge, with a virtual option for those joining remotely. And all of it will be recorded to be watched later (up to 60 days after the event).
Please come. Even online. Even if you catch the replays afterward on a Tuesday night after the kids are in bed. Just knowing there is a world of people who believe what you believe…it fills you back up. You walk away remembering why this matters and feeling less alone in it.
And please send this to someone who needs it. Your child’s preschool teacher. Your nanny or caregiver. Your pediatrician’s office. That friend in your playgroup. That director at your child’s school who’s trying to do things differently but doesn’t have the language for it yet.
That’s the community RIE builds. It started for me in an infant classroom over two decades ago. This week it showed up as a tea ceremony. Next month, it shows up in Northridge, and on screens around the world.