'When I saw my 6-year-old's journal entry, it changed how I parent forever.'

It was an ordinary afternoon when my six-year-old handed me her school journal. I was half-listening, half-wiping peanut butter off the kitchen counter when I glanced down at the page. And then I froze.

"This is what happens when you diy," she had written.

Like most parents, I am an expert at deciphering her spelling mistakes, and I could guess the word she had meant to spell out phonetically: die.

Watch: We hit the streets to ask parents and carers: Do you know what your kids are consuming online? Post continues after video.

As I turned the pages of her journal, she looked at me expectantly. She had carefully illustrated a story that she felt was important to share when she could have been writing about her favourite Pokémon character or our recent trip to get ice cream.

"Everybody diys, and that's okay.

You have a big life.

When you are ded, before you are a baby, you are in the stars.

You are sleeping.

We all diy, but then you have another life."

I blinked at her. "You wrote this?"

"Yep!" she said proudly. "It's true, you know."

A page from Amy's daughter's journal. Image: Supplied.

And just like that, my six-year-old had casually dropped one of life's biggest lessons into my lap — along with a handful of glitter from her backpack.

What our kids already know.

This wasn't the first time a child had wowed me with their wisdom, and it wouldn't be the last. When my daughter shared her journal, I was 18 months into researching my next book, Wise Child: A Practical Guide to Raising Kids with Sensitive Hearts and Smart Souls in a World They Were Reborn to Save.

Whenever I'm researching a new topic, I keep it close to my chest. At this point, the only person I had discussed it with was my husband, and never in front of our three children, then aged 3, 5, and 6.

In Wise Child, I uncover a bizarre new parenting trend called past life parenting. This is the idea that children can remember past lives and 'bring forward' their memories, fears, and knowledge.

Yes, I was skeptical too at first — until I began interviewing children, parents, educators, and therapists. Is this why Generation Alpha is so different — so sensitive, empathetic, and shockingly eloquent?

Like the little boy featured in my book, who remembers "drowning in the war" and is terrified of swimming lessons.

Or the 10-year-old who declared to his mum:

"If you die in one dimension, you'll come back in another, but you're not completely the same. I know it's hard for your generation to understand. Mum, I'm not afraid of death. I live in full acceptance."

My own daughter, then four years old, once told me she "chose to be born" during lockdown and reassured me that I didn't need to worry about her or feel guilty.

As adults, we spend so much time trying to teach our kids. Don't touch the hot stove. Say please and thank you. Look both ways before crossing the street. But what if, sometimes, we're the ones who need to be learning from them?

Tuned-in children, trusting families.

Of course, I don't expect everyone reading this to suddenly believe their child is a reincarnated healer. But researching this book completely changed the dynamics of our family — and this was an incredible relief for me as a stressed-out mother.

It started by levelling the playing field. Rather than approaching every situation thinking I'm older and, therefore, wiser than my kids, I began giving them more autonomy — within age-appropriate boundaries.

I've spoken to parents who let their children change their names, switch schools, quit or start hobbies, or visit a particular country just because their child had a feeling. That might be a little extreme for some, but how can we teach our kids to trust their instincts?

When I feel overwhelmed, rather than blaming my kids, I turn to them for guidance. Yesterday, my four-year-old said to me, "Mummy, do you ever lie on a beach on a towel with a drink in your hand? I think that would help you to calm yourself." Solid advice!

My six-year-old even wrote a children's book called How to Recycle Your Body, filled with tips for emotional regulation.

One of my favourite lines?

"If you feel shy, there's a little guy inside your brain who can give you strength, but sometimes he doesn't know whether he needs to protect you or not."

My sister, a professional cyclist, even used his tips during her last competition.

After reading my daughter's journal, a new tradition began. At bedtime, I started asking her what she thought about things — big things, small things, silly things. And every time, her answers made me smile, laugh, or completely rethink something I thought I knew.

I still have moments when I'm a less-than-perfect parent. But now, when I catch myself spiralling into adult stress mode, I think about my daughter's words:

"Everybody dies… and that's okay! You have a big life."

Amy's daughter. Image: Supplied.

And then, I take a deep breath. I put down my phone. And I ask her what she thinks about the moon, or dinosaurs, or what she'd do if she were queen of the world for a day.

Because honestly? Her answers are way better than mine.

Wise Child by Amy Molloy is available now. Follow Amy @amy_molloy.

More stories written by Amy:

• 'After motherhood, my sexual identity changed. Nothing prepared me for it.'

• "We will never get this time back": The grief of raising a baby in 'Fortress Australia'.

• 'What my toddler taught me about my eating disorder.'

Feature image: Supplied.