One late afternoon, I found myself engrossed in my work at the kitchen table. Suddenly, the garden doors swung open, and in rushed my oldest son, Liam, beaming with excitement and slightly out of breath. A helmet sat crookedly atop his head. “Mom!” he exclaimed, but my focus remained glued to the screen. “Mom!” he repeated, this time with more urgency, “I can ride a bike!” Now, he had my full attention.
Two years earlier, we had gifted him a gleaming new bike for his fifth birthday. It was a size larger than necessary, as Liam was always on the taller side. The shopkeeper had assured us it was a wise choice—room to grow, he said. In hindsight, that decision may have been hasty. Liam was cautious, and our initial outings were fraught with uncertainty. He wobbled uneasily, and I found myself gripping the back of his seat, attempting to keep both him and the bike upright amidst the struggle against gravity.
Before long, the rainy autumn turned into an even rainier winter, and the bike became a forgotten relic, rusting away in the corner of the garage. Life shifted dramatically as Liam welcomed two younger siblings into the family. By spring, I found myself overwhelmed and preoccupied, barely managing to get dressed, let alone teach my son how to ride. Liam turned to other outdoor activities, ones that didn’t require my involvement.
As children grow, there’s a natural process of letting go. Sometimes it unfolds gradually with each birthday; other times, it’s thrust upon us by circumstances. The arrival of two newborns certainly created a gap between my attention and my five-and-a-half-year-old. I once knew every detail of his day, but now there were nights when I tucked him in, only to hear fragmented stories from the past week that felt distant and unfamiliar.
That summer brought new friends for Liam, which was no small feat for him. Our house is part of a community that backs onto a parking lot, and a path leads directly to the neighboring yards, some of which were home to boys his age. They called for him to join their games, and at first, I hesitated. Was he old enough to walk the mere 100 meters to their backyard? To roam freely, unsupervised, building forts and playing secret agents? Other parents seemed to think so, and after some deliberation, we agreed.
This gathering of kids quickly became a staple of our evenings. Liam would come home from school and, with his siblings, seek them out whenever possible. If the weather turned sour, they would play indoors, but on sunny days, they raced along the stretch of sidewalk outside, sharing bikes of various shapes and sizes. Some had training wheels, while others were balance bikes, designed to help kids learn to ride without the crutch of stabilizers.
This experience perfectly encapsulates parenting, doesn’t it? In one approach, we allow our children to learn how to balance themselves as they navigate the journey to adulthood, even while they teeter and sway. In another, we support them too much, which might feel safer but can ultimately impede their ability to find their own footing. It reminds me of how I used to “encourage” Liam to walk when he was just a year old. I would pull him around the room, bearing the weight of his body as he resisted, falling to his knees in protest. Those moments were more for my benefit than his, as I impatiently rushed him through what felt like a milestone checklist.
Eventually, he took his first steps, and I was there to witness it. I cheered him on through his first successful trip to the potty, his first button, and his first word. I reveled in the pride he felt when I was present. However, the pride shining in his eyes when he burst through the garden doors to show me his newfound biking skills was different. It was pride born of independence, of having accomplished this on his own, even if I hadn’t realized I was giving him the space to do so.
What I lost that day in not being the one to teach Liam how to ride was softened by the joy he radiated in showing me his triumph. He had done it in his own time, on his own terms. For us parents, this journey of growing up is about realizing that while the milestones achieved with our help are sweet, those that occur when we aren’t holding their hands can be even more fulfilling.
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In summary, as parents, we often think we need to be involved in every step our children take. However, the moments when they achieve things independently can be even more rewarding. It’s a journey of letting go, fostering resilience, and witnessing their growth.