You have probably noticed it, too. How the shelves of children’s books are filled with stories that feel… distant. I remember sitting on the floor of the library with a young Adrián, my heart sinking as I flipped through book after book. There were stories about “being kind to everyone,” which is beautiful, but none where he could truly “see” himself. None where the character got overwhelmed by the hum of the lights, or communicated joy with their whole body, or saw the world in patterns as breathtaking and complex as he does.

That relentless search, that ache for a story that felt like a reflection and not a lesson, is where this all began. Storytelling, the right kind of storytelling, isn’t just a bedtime routine in our house. It’s a lifeline. It’s how we build confidence from the inside out, by showing my boys that their experiences are valid, real, and worthy of being the center of a great adventure. You can read more about our mission behind this in our post.

The Quiet Magic of Seeing Yourself in a Story

Let’s be real. For our kids, the world can feel like a place that constantly asks them to adjust, to mask, to explain. A story that mirrors their inner world does the opposite. It *comes to them*. It speaks their silent language.

The Gift of Validation

Imagine Guille, my five-year-old, pointing to a picture in a book of a boy covering his ears at a birthday party. His eyes get wide, and he looks at me, then back at the book, and pats his own chest. “Yes, mi amor,” I say. “He hears it too. It’s loud.” In that moment, he isn’t “too sensitive.” He is understood. By a character, by a story, and by me.

That is the first, most profound power of authentic storytelling: validation. It tells my children, “You are not alone in this feeling. Your experience is real, and it is part of a story.” For Adrián, reading about a character who infodumps about dinosaurs and then feels awkward about it didn’t make him feel awkward. It made him feel seen. It gave his own passionate way of loving things a name and a home in a narrative. That is a building block of confidence you cannot create with just praise. It has to be felt.

Finding a Roadmap in the Pages

Confidence isn’t just about feeling good. It’s about believing you can handle things. This is where relatable characters become gentle guides.

I remember when Adrián was dreading a school field trip to a crowded museum. We read a story about a character who used a “secret mission” checklist (first floor, find the blue whale, then find the quiet corner for five minutes) to navigate a busy place. It was a story, just a fun tale. But the next week, he asked if he could make a checklist for the museum. The story didn’t lecture him about coping strategies. It showed him a hero using one. It gave him a roadmap, disguised as an adventure. He felt in control, not because I told him he would be okay, but because a character he trusted had shown him how.

More Than a Book: A Tool for Connection

In our house, the right book is less about literature and more about a toolkit for understanding, for my boys, for me, and for their world.

Building the Language for Feelings

Before stories, frustration was a tornado in our house. Guille would cry, Adrián would shut down, and I would be left guessing. Stories gave us a common language. We read about a character who felt like a “soda bottle shaken up.” Now, when Adrián feels that bubbling overwhelm, he can sometimes say, “I’m a soda bottle, Mom.” That is huge. That is self-awareness, born from a metaphor in a picture book. It turns a confusing internal storm into something we can name and, therefore, something we can begin to manage together. Even Social stories hand-drawn work!

Creating Bridges to Their World

This is perhaps the most hopeful part. These stories aren’t just for my kids. They are for their peers, their teachers, their extended family. When I share our Loving Pieces Books with Adrián’s class, I’m not asking the kids to be nice. I’m inviting them into a fascinating, different perspective. I’m showing them why Guille might need to jump to feel calm, or how Adrián’s detailed memory works like a super skill.

It transforms “that weird thing he does” into “oh, that’s how he works.” It builds empathy not from obligation, but from understanding. It helps create a supportive community around them, one curious reader at a time.

This Is Why I Do What I Do

I am not a children’s author by trade. I am a mom and along with my husband got tired of not finding the stories our sons deserved. We wrote the books needed in those lonely library aisles. I personally wrote them for the moms and dads who are searching for that mirror. I wrote them for the teachers who want to connect but need a doorway in. Most of all, I wrote them for the Adrian’s and Guille’s, to whisper through the pages: You are the main character of this story. Your way of being is not a side plot. It is the magic itself.

If this resonates with you, if you are also searching for that authentic reflection for your child, I invite you to explore our book series, It’s a collection of stories and guides born from our real, messy, beautiful life a place to start when you’re ready to see your child’s story celebrated.

Remember, the most powerful story you will ever help write is the one your child believes about themselves. Let’s make it a good one.