I think kids ought to travel. I think it's very good to carry

The words of Doris Lessing, wise observer of humanity and teller of truths, come to us with the warmth of both tenderness and realism: “I think kids ought to travel. I think it’s very good to carry kids around. It’s good for them. Of course it’s tough on the parents.” These words, though spoken plainly, bear the depth of timeless wisdom. For they remind us that the shaping of a young soul is not accomplished by stillness alone, but by movement—by exposure to the world in all its diversity and wonder. To travel in youth is to plant the seeds of imagination, resilience, and understanding that will blossom for a lifetime.

From the ancient days, wise men and women have understood that childhood is a time not merely for protection, but for initiation. The young were brought to see battles, to witness rituals, to hear the songs and stories of far-off lands. For the elders knew that kids who remained only within their own walls grew narrow of vision, but those who were carried across rivers and deserts grew into people of breadth and depth. Lessing echoes this eternal truth: travel teaches children to see beyond themselves, to recognize that the world is vast, filled with peoples and ways unlike their own.

Consider the story of Alexander the Great, who as a boy was taken by his father Philip to watch great councils, to meet foreign envoys, to witness battles, and to walk the roads of distant lands. This early exposure shaped his vision of empire and gave him the sense that the world was far larger than Macedonia. By the time he took command, he carried not only the strength of his training but also the wide perspective of one who had seen much beyond his birthplace. This is the gift of travel in youth—it awakens the imagination and gives the child the sense that destiny is broader than the narrow walls of home.

But Lessing, with her piercing honesty, adds the second truth: it is tough on the parents. For indeed, the labor of carrying children across distances, the patience required in the face of their questions, fears, and restlessness, is no small burden. Yet herein lies the heroic task of parenthood: to endure temporary hardship for the sake of eternal gain. Just as a farmer labors in the heat to plant seeds that will one day feed his family, so must parents bear the weight of travel with their children, knowing that what seems troublesome today may yield wisdom for a lifetime.

The meaning of the quote lies in this balance of difficulty and blessing. Parents sacrifice comfort so their children may gain vision. They trade the ease of routine for the growth that comes from exposure to the unknown. And though the parents tire, the children gain strength, humility, and curiosity. This is the eternal cycle: the older generation labors so that the younger may inherit not only survival, but wisdom.

For us, the lesson is clear: when possible, let children travel. Let them see different cities, hear different tongues, taste different foods. Let them encounter both beauty and discomfort, for each will shape them. And for parents and guardians, though the road may be wearying, let them remember the greater purpose of the struggle. To endure a restless child on the road is to prepare that child to one day walk the world with steadiness and grace.

Thus, let this teaching be remembered: travel in youth is not luxury, but training. It is not merely leisure, but education of the heart. Parents may grow weary, but their children will grow wise. And one day, those children will carry forward the memory of their journeys, grateful for the sacrifices that gave them the vision to see the world not as strangers, but as heirs of its infinite richness.