To T-ball or not to T-ball? That is the question. Or, at least, that is the question I’m commiserating over.

Since my children entered this world, I have had Pinterest boards, saved Instagram posts and plenty of notes about all the things I should do with them. Intricate art projects. Raised garden beds of fruits and vegetables we would harvest together. Sensory tables. Reading activities. Math games.

Looking through these ideas has only ever raised my blood pressure. I wish I were the type of person who could effortlessly accomplish all of those things and more. But when I look at the lists, the goals, the expectations, I just get overwhelmed. This overwhelm used to be a source of mom guilt. Why can’t I do more? But then it occurred to me, if I’m feeling overwhelmed, maybe my kids are, too.

Back to T-ball.

I have never been particularly athletic or competitive, so maybe I’m not the one to ask. And if you are committed to your child competing at the Olympics, then absolutely ignore me. But at ages 3 and 5, a few free hours after school to run around in the backyard, explore the park or feed ducks at the lake feels so much more important than another sports practice. (They’re already enrolled in tennis lessons. I’m not totally anti-sport. Don’t worry.)

I don’t read parenting books—for better or worse. But managing editor Bre Pizzolato is, thankfully, always there to fill me in. And on this topic, she has my back.

By her reporting and via Hunt, Gather, Parent, less is more. Kids need space to grow, learn and just do their own thing.

Something my children and I do together that makes me feel like I’m fulfilling at least one item on my parenting to-do list is going to the Louisiana Art and Science Museum regularly. It’s the perfect place to relax and explore, and we have spent so many beautiful Saturday mornings there together. And one such morning provided the inspiration for this month’s cover story.

Back in 2024, my kids were stopped in their tracks as we wandered the second floor of LASM. Alligators. Butterflies. Ducks. The walls of The Soupcon Gallery had been transformed by artist Chase Mullen, and my kids were mesmerized. We stayed for much longer than toddlers normally stay in one place, and we returned several more times afterward, eager to revisit the magic.

When writer Jeffrey Roedel and I approached Mullen about being featured in this issue, I never dreamed that the story would end up speaking so clearly to me, as a parent and as an art lover. Mullen’s story is one of embracing creativity, connection to nature and, most importantly, time with one another. It’s one of, well, not bowing to the constraints of a sports schedule. Read it all here.

I didn’t sign my kids up for T-ball. Perhaps they won’t make it to the World Series, but that’s a problem for later. For now, you can find my kids and me wandering the halls of LASM. Or maybe we’re at the LSU Lakes. Or, actually, maybe we’re just at home.

Every day is a new adventure. And I’ll be here reminding myself that less really is more.

Looking forward,

Riley Bienvenu Bourgeois

Editor