Toddler Moments in Tokyo

The Day My Toddler Made Friends in a Tokyo Playground

By Kaitlyn Fraser
A small, beautiful reminder that play speaks all languages.

A Quiet Morning in Yoyogi Park

We hadn’t planned to visit a playground. In fact, it wasn’t even on the itinerary. Our day was supposed to be about shrines and sushi, about ticking off the boxes that come with a trip to Tokyo. But my two-year-old had other plans. Midway through our walk in Yoyogi Park, he tugged at my hand and pointed—a bright burst of color in the distance, the unmistakable chaos of swings, slides, and squeals.

At first, I hesitated. We only had a week in Japan. Was a playground really the best use of our time? But then I looked at his face—wide-eyed, already halfway running toward the fun—and I let go.

Language Barriers and Shared Laughter

The kids were speaking Japanese, of course. My son knew exactly zero Japanese. But within minutes, he was chasing a little girl around the slide, laughing like they’d been best friends forever. Another boy offered him a turn on a scooter. He didn’t understand the words, but he understood the gesture.

I watched from the bench, stunned. Children don’t care about language. Or borders. They care about who’s willing to climb up the ladder, who can go down the slide the fastest, and who’s willing to laugh at absolutely nothing.

Kindness in the Smallest Moments

A local mom smiled at me. We didn’t speak the same language, but we smiled the same smile: the one that says, “This is our life right now.” She offered my son a juice box. I offered her daughter a sticker. The kids kept playing.

It wasn’t just sweet—it was profound.

In the middle of the biggest city I’d ever visited, surrounded by the unfamiliar, something felt deeply familiar. Like we were part of a quiet club—parents just trying to give our kids some joy and sunshine.

The Playground as a Passport

I’ve taken my son to playgrounds in five countries. Every time, I worry he’ll be left out. And every time, I’m reminded that kids don’t need permission to belong. They find their way in with a giggle, a gesture, or a game of tag.

He doesn’t remember the Meiji Shrine we saw that morning. But he remembers the yellow slide in Tokyo. He remembers the girl in the red jacket. He remembers the juice box.

And honestly? So do I.

Let Them Lead

Traveling with a toddler means unexpected detours. It means missed museums and spontaneous naps. But sometimes, those detours take you exactly where you’re meant to be.

That day in Tokyo, I let my son lead. And he led us somewhere simple, beautiful, and unforgettable. A place where he didn’t need to understand the language to feel understood.

So if you find yourself in a new country with your child—follow their feet. You might just find a little magic at the bottom of a slide.

Has your child made friends abroad without a single shared word? Tag @AffordableJourney with #PlaygroundPassport and share your story.