Two sisters, ages 14 and 9, recently popped into our Toastmasters meeting alongside their mom. Their assignment was to deliver a tall-tale speech, a fictional story passed from person to person to keep the narrative alive.

This trio absolutely dazzled.

Speaking completely without notes, the sisters were bold, funny and magnetic. Within seconds, they had the room rapt with attention. These girls, neither old enough to legally drive, completely owned the room. As they took their seats to thunderous applause, my brain quickly cataloged what made them so captivating.

They were expressive. They didn’t overthink. They weren’t trapped in their own heads. It looked like they were having a blast.

As adults, we tend to do the opposite. We learn to perform. We practice the perfect answer, rehearse the presentation, replay the story in our heads and worry about how we are being perceived. Of course we should practice, but we go wrong when we overthink it and strive for a flawless execution.

Ironically, that quest for perfection can leave us looking stiff, robotic and detached. Perfection can immobilize us and suck the joy out of trying anything new or taking a risk.

I was blown away by how these girls had an enthusiastic “let’s do this” approach. Their delivery didn’t feel weighted down with a heavy backpack of nerves, overthinking, fast talking, quiet talking or looking at notes. They just shined.

Adults can tap into this energy too. Sometimes adults forget who they were before the world got to them. They hold on too tightly and try to control every little detail. Making a mistake feels like failure.

Often you can tell the difference between someone delivering a rigidly memorized speech and someone recalling a story they have actually lived. One feels rehearsed and performative. The other feels alive and moves the audience.

Children understand this instinctively. They show up in full color, make funny faces and gesture wildly. They say what they think and aren’t constantly monitoring themselves from the outside. They just are.

Without realizing it, we (adults) can spend years living as though life is a performance for an audience that likely isn’t even watching. This is why these two young speakers were such a gift. They didn’t just teach a group of adults something about public speaking; they gave us a mini-master class on how to live.

Every so often we need to check in and ask ourselves: Who were you before the world got to you? What if adults who struggle with perfectionism could let go by reminding themselves of who they were as kids?

Note #1: Children aren’t born worrying about whether they are taking up too much space. 

Note #2: Kids don’t need to be taught how to incorporate play.

Note #3: Kids are much better at living in the present, showing up and just letting go.

Note #4: Maybe loosening our grip on the outcome, like kids do, is exactly what we need to do to be the full expression of ourselves.

Maybe that younger version of you has some reminders for adult you. Like: Who were you? Are you still the best parts of that person today?

When an experienced public speaker told me I could stop using a script and give a speech off a one-page outline, I thought that person was crazy. Are you kidding? I had a death grip on my carefully crafted notes. But I quickly learned he was right. The best speeches are stories shared, not just words memorized and recited.

We show up better authentically. We can move people when we are real.

Give yourself permission to be a little more spontaneous. Experiment, play and make the decision that sounds fun and brave. Tell the story without worrying whether it’s perfectly polished. Try something new without needing to be immediately good at it. Get some of the childlike spirit back. You know, let go a little.

So put down the script. Stop worrying so much about how you’re being perceived. Rock that kid you were. Take up space. Tell the story the way you remember it. Laugh a little louder as you let go of everything that keeps you from being yourself.