I practiced yoga for years and somehow still never figured out how to introduce stillness or breathing to my own kids. Partly because I was never great at it myself. Even in the middle of a class, I’d find my mind drifting to the grocery run I was planning afterward, or whatever was waiting on my to-do list. The only time my brain actually goes quiet is when I’m sitting outside, really listening to whatever’s happening around me. Silence alone doesn’t do it. I need something to follow.
Which is part of why I found Leda Elliott’s approach to meditation for kids so disarming. Elliott is a Tai Chi and Reiki master and the author of The Five Seasons Method (Scribner, August 2026), and she has been teaching preschoolers to meditate for years. Her approach doesn’t look like what most of us picture when we hear that word. There are Beanie Babies involved. And frogs.
The research backs her up. The American Academy of Pediatrics encourages parents to share meditation with their children and urges teachers to incorporate mindfulness into their lesson plans, noting that kids can start benefiting from the practice as early as preschool age.
The catch is that most of us don’t know how to actually bring these practices to kids in a way that sticks. Elliott does. Here’s what she’s learned.
Explore all articles: Pregnancy and birth guide
Don’t call it meditation
With young kids especially, the word “meditation” doesn’t mean squat— and if we’re being honest, it carries enough baggage to make the whole thing feel like a chore before you’ve started, even for adults. Elliott sidesteps it entirely, using animal metaphors instead. For belly breathing, she teaches “froggy breathing.” Bullfrogs puff their bellies out, so kids practice the same. When it’s time to go still, she introduces the meditating frog: eyes closed, belly rising and falling, quiet. “They don’t really understand the word meditating,” she says, “but they know to close their eyes and go still. I’ve had kids tell me, ‘Miss Leda, we’re being meditating frogs!’” They’re doing the practice without knowing it has a name.
Start with 10 seconds — seriously
The AAP recommends a few minutes per day for preschoolers, three to ten minutes twice a day for elementary schoolers, and five to 45 minutes for teens. Those numbers can feel daunting if you’re starting from scratch, which is exactly why Elliott ignores them at first. She starts at ten seconds. “Many adults can’t keep their focus for even ten seconds in modern life,” she says, and she’s not wrong. With a new group of three-year-olds, she might begin at five if the room calls for it, adding time only when kids are ready. By the time her students are five and heading to kindergarten, after two full years of practice, they can sustain five full minutes – longer than many adults manage on a good day.
For older kids and adults, the same logic holds. Start where you actually are, not where you think you should be.
Use a prop
For the belly breathing exercise, Elliott has preschoolers lie on their backs and places a small beanie baby on each child’s stomach. The goal is to make the animal rise and fall with each breath. It gives kids something visible to track — a tangible way into something abstract (“breathe from your belly”) that also happens to feel like a game. “The little kitties and doggies like to go for a ride,” she tells them. For adults, a hand on the belly does the same job, but for little kids, the prop is everything.
Give them a sound to follow
This one resonated with me personally. Elliott uses Tibetan tingsha bells to open and close meditation time — she strikes it and asks kids to listen all the way until the sound disappears completely, which takes about five to ten seconds. (Also, it’s simply the loveliest, most soothing sound.) It’s a quietly brilliant way to train sustained attention without making it feel like a lesson. The sound gives children something concrete to follow, so “stay focused” becomes “can you still hear it?” For anyone who finds pure silence too loud to sit with, a fading sound turns out to be a much more forgiving place to start.
Let them lie down
Seated meditation is hard for adults. For kids, it can feel like a time-out. Elliott puts children on the floor — completely flat on their backs — for most of her practices, which is both more comfortable and, she says, more grounding. “The best way is lying down because you can feel with your entire body.” Over time, her preschool classes have come to love this part of their day. “They all just go like this,” she says, letting her body go slack. “And the teachers are completely melting, too.” I believe it.
Model it yourself
This is the part Elliott comes back to most, and the part that stuck with me most after our conversation. Kids don’t learn what they’re told — they learn what they see. If you want your child to be able to settle, they need to watch you do it first. “If a mom says ‘calm down‘ but she herself is frantic, the child is going to absorb the frenzy,” she says. “Not the words.” Practicing alongside your kid — lying on the floor together, doing froggy breathing, listening to a chime fade out — isn’t a detour from the goal. It is the goal.
The approach changes with age. The goal doesn’t.
Elliott teaches all ages — preschool through high school and beyond — and she’s clear that middle schoolers require a completely different approach than three-year-olds. The frog metaphors won’t fly with a seventh grader. But the underlying practices are the same: short, embodied, low-stakes. “The approach has to be different,” she says, “but the goal is the same.” And the earlier kids build the foundation, the more second-nature it becomes — which, she’d probably say, is kind of the whole point of starting with frogs.
