This is not a scientific observation, but I think it’s safe to say that among most inhabitants of a northern latitude, body image doesn’t exactly peak this time of year. When the seasonal trends lean toward freezing temperatures, flu outbreaks, and post-Valentine’s day chocolate sales, many of us are tempted to put on yoga pants, put off exercise, and throw a drop cloth over the full-length mirrors.

Suffice it to say, I was a little mopey this morning when attempting to find suitable attire for a trip to an indoor water park with the boys at the end of the week (a prospect gloomier to many than mid-winter thigh exposure, I realize). I dug around the bathing drawer and pulled out the black Speedo that’s seen me through seven years of Mommy-and-Me swim classes, and pulled it on.

“Ugh!” I muttered to myself, catching a glimpse in the mirror.

A little voice piped up behind me. It was my three-year-old son, who was holding a stuffed bear in the crook of one arm, and a box of Mini Wheats in the other. “Fast!” he said, reaching a tiny hand up to touch the shiny black material that stretched over my hip. “You look fast, mommy!”

I had to laugh. My son didn’t see the flaws that were obvious to me. He saw a material that resembled something worn by Catwoman in the book we had read the night before, Feline Felonies, and maybe even a not-yet-totally-atrophied muscle or two. What is a Speedo for, after all, but speed? To my pre-pubescent boys, a bathing suit—whether for them or mom or the sassy 18-year-old lifeguard at the pool—still has nothing to do with looking good, and everything to do with what you can do in it.

Unfortunately, kids of both sexes seem to be losing sight of this at earlier and earlier ages. A few years ago, I wrote a Parents magazine article, “Kids Who Won’t Eat”, and found that rising awareness about childhood obesity has been a bit of a double-edged sword, as an obsession for body and diet perfection in some circles seems to be trickling down from parents to kids. A recent report by Common Sense Media, meanwhile, showed that half of girls and one-third of boys ages 6 to 8 think the ideal body size is thinner than the one they have. Some of this has to do with what kids see on their phones and TVs, with the rise of the Photoshopped selfie and increasingly unrealistic media portrayals (a whopping 87 percent of teenage TV characters are underweight). But some of it has to do with the way we respond to those media images, directly or indirectly, ourselves. According to Common Sense’s data, five-to-eight year olds who think their moms are dissatisfied with their bodies are more likely to be bummed out by their own bodies, too.

Parenting experts talk a lot about role modeling behavior for our kids: that the best way to get them to do something is to do it ourselves. Clearly, this extends to treating our bodies with respect. This means eating well, not smoking, and exercising, yes, but also not bad-mouthing the body parts that have served us—and them!—through childhood, childbirth, and child-rearing. In another recent study, when kidshealth.org and Discovery Girls magazine asked 2,400 women if they thought they were beautiful, only 41 percent of moms responded yes. But when their daughters were asked if their mothers were beautiful, 91 percent said yes. How else are they going to feel about the person who’s created them, fed them, stayed up all night with them when they were sick or scared, and hurdled waves to save a broken toy pail they loved? My guess is that when these children say their moms are beautiful, they aren’t considering rock-hard abs or perfectly groomed eyebrows in the mix.

As winter turns to spring and we emerge from our homes and our chunky sweaters, I’m going to think back to my three-year-old’s comment whenever I start to question whether I have any business wearing a certain article of clothing, or trying a new exercise class, or jumping off the golf club diving board. There are few things that wear better than contentedness and confidence, and they can be passed down, to girls and boys, both.