It’s days like the one I’m about to describe that make me so happy I decided to quit my corporate job and stay home to raise my son, Brendan.

Some days are tough — the kind that are filled with so little sleep and so much struggle that your mind goes numb. Some days are easy — the kind that are filled with laughter and tickles and on-time schedules. And then there are the days that are studded with gems that make you genuinely change your perspective.

I was in a string of days that were of the “tough” variety. I could tell something had been bothering my then 16-month-old son, Brendan. There was way too much whining and shirt pulling and refusing to nap and refusing to go to bed (1 a.m. is not an acceptable toddler bedtime – ever – I mean REALLY!). Brendan had two more molars coming in but that didn’t seem like the issue this time. It’s like his little brain had been going a million miles a minute and he only stopped to sleep when he absolutely crashed down.

If you’ve gotten the chance to meet the little dude, you’ll understand what I mean when I say he’s always been more of a “social” rather than “physical” kind of kid. We have to stop and talk to everyone we meet, but when it came to crawling and walking and climbing he has always been behind the little buddies his own age.

But this particular week I could tell he had been making attempts to master control of his own body (things we’re not used to seeing him do): trying to climb up and onto things himself, squeezing into tight spots, getting super frustrated when he got stuck or couldn’t quite reach his leg high enough to climb a tall step. I’d offer my hand to help and sometimes he’d take it but most times he’d slap it away. Well okay, then, you want to do it yourself! I totally get it (even if my mama feelings are a little bit hurt!),

So we went to the park one afternoon and he was DETERMINED to climb up the slide. He would crawl on hands and knees and slide back down. Cry. Repeat (where did he get that stubbornness, I wonder?!). My husband Matt was with us and at one point he helped him finally get up the dang slide. That appeased him for a minute until he slid down and wanted to climb it yet again.

I remember reading a piece by a mom who said she didn’t want people helping her kid on the playground. Seemed kind of harsh at the time but I really liked her reasoning: If her kid wasn’t able to conquer a certain obstacle, well that was just fine. They needed to feel frustration and to have something to work towards when they were older/bigger/more skilled/etc. Could a playground really teach such legit life skills? Maybe. So I told Matt we should let Brendan figure it out (and honestly, who has the patience to help their kid up the slide every. single. time.).

So we stepped back. And Brendan wasn’t too happy about it. He tried – and failed – yet again. He cried – no, no, I’m sorry, he sat at the bottom and SCREAMED, actual tears rolling down his bright red face. I felt awful for him. I know exactly what it feels like to want so badly to be good at something. It was tempting to jump in and help him. But we didn’t.

Right then his little buddy (who has been a great climber and was at the park with us) scaled the slide right next to him. I pointed and told Brendan, “See how he uses his feet for traction and holds onto the sides with his hands? You have to try it THAT way next time!” I never know how much he really understands me but figured I might as well try explaining what to do.

So up the slide he went again, on hands and knees and down he came again. But instead of crying at the bottom this time he STOOD UP! He put both hands on the side and he stepped carefully all the way to the top. And when he got there, man was he so proud, clapping his hands, all smiles, with that sad little tear still sitting on his cheek.

I’m not gonna lie, I was tearing up at this point, too (and I’m tearing up now while writing this!). Silly, I know, over a SLIDE. But there’s something really magical about watching this little person that you created face a problem, work so hard to solve it and finally succeed. But before the triumph is the failure and that — I realized — is so very hard to stand back and watch as a parent. If it can be that difficult on the playground, I can’t even begin to imagine when life gets REAL (pause and insert thanks to all the parents out there who stepped back and watched us fail for our own good).

I told Matt on our way out that I had a feeling he’d sleep better that day. And sure enough, as soon as we got home he was READY for a nap, no fighting it this time. And no fighting bedtime, either. It was like his mind was totally at ease – at least for today. At least, until the next obstacle comes his way.

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