Let Them Be Wild Again

Why children love the farm?

If you’ve ever watched a child arrive at the farm, you’ll notice a shift - slow at first, almost invisible.

They hold on tight in the beginning.

To a parent’s hand.

To a screen.

To invisible rules they’ve picked up somewhere along the way; about what’s dirty, what’s allowed, how loud is too loud.

But then, something changes.

Give it ten minutes. Maybe less.

They slip off their shoes.

They chase a chicken.

They giggle when a horse sniffs their pocket.

They sit in the mud like it’s the most natural thing in the world, because for them, it is.

There’s no designated playroom at Farm Aavjo.

No bright-colored slides or scheduled craft time.

Instead, we have:

A bucket full of water that becomes a universe.

Trees that were made to be climbed.

Eggs that come warm from a nest, not cold from a shelf.

Dogs who greet like old friends.

And stars — real stars — the kind most city children have only seen in picture books.

And in all of this… something quietly profound: freedom.

The freedom to get dirty.

To be loud.

To fall down, laugh, and try again.

To help wash a horse or carry a bowl to the kitchen, not as a game but as something that matters.

Parents often say to me, wide-eyed and smiling, “We’ve never seen them like this.”

But I have. Many times.

And I know what they’re seeing.

It’s not a new version of their child — it’s the truest one.

The one that’s always been there, just waiting for space.

Here at Farm Aavjo, we don’t entertain children.

We don’t structure their time.

We let the land do what it knows how to do.

And it always knows.

Because children don’t need more stimulation.

They need the real.

They need earth under their feet, wind in their hair, animals who don’t care what they’re wearing, and adults who don’t rush them.

That’s what we hold space for.

Not activities. But presence. Stillness. Joy. Wonder.

So if your child has been restless lately, if they’ve been asking for something without words, bring them here.

Let them run barefoot.

Let them forget about clean hands.

Let them return to themselves.

And when the day ends and it’s time to go, they’ll probably say what so many before them have:

“Can we stay just one more day?”

And chances are, in your heart, you’ll be saying the same.