We were having your math drills. You’re several chapters ahead of your programming classmates who are a couple of years older than you are; you’re excellent in multiplication, and in measuring and conversions. But for some reason, you’re still struggling with addition and subtraction. And so we were working on it; and I must add that you really are putting effort on it, which is what matters.

You were so focused that for some reason, you got your feet and lower legs inside this. Yes, both of them. And you can’t get them out.

At first you were cool with it and I thought you were just bluffing. But when you were already twisting and turning yet still can’t get your legs out of the contraption, we both got concerned. And we both panicked.

I tried to gently put you and the chair sideways thinking that might help you, but it didn’t. So I carried you (and the chair) upright again. At first I tried to instruct you how to move your feet, then I tried to gently guide your feet out, but it didn’t work. I had to will myself to not touch you because I was afraid I’d panic and pull your feet out by force which will definitely hurt you.

Trying to calm my own voice, I reminded you to calm down, take deep breaths, to clear your head. You were able to get your feet inside so that means you can take them out. Calm down, take deep breaths, and think.

Like a pro, you immediate made several Lamaze breaths. Deep breathe in, exhale out. You did six cycles. And like magic, you were able to untangle your legs. Before I could hug you, you stood up, corrected your chair, flipped your hair, and picked up your pencil to continue your drill. I counted to five (I was thinking that I should be worried if you just carry on as if nothing happened). My counting didn’t reach five. At four, you broke into tears and bawled over to me. I let you cry in my arms. At some point you looked up and with a laugh pointed to me that my shirt is full of tears and snot. I said it doesn’t matter. Just cry on. And you did. After crying your heart out, you looked up to me, eyes still full of tears, but with laughter all over your face, whilst saying, “I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life stuck in this chair!”

That definitely cracked us and gave us a good laugh. We imagined scenarios of how you could have had spent the rest of your life in that chair and how we’d have to carry you (and the chair) around to school and to after-school. And that you’ll play soccer with the chair. You added you can be the goalkeeper because you can’t run.

I am thankful that you were able to get yourself out of getting stuck. But what I was more thankful was that it gave me an opportunity to share with you how calming yourself down could help you resolve tricky situations; how going panicky will not help things; how having a clear mind could help you think of solutions to your predicament; how taking deep breaths could help you clear your mind. You asked me if deep breathing could also help you calm you down when you’re trying to make friends. And I said it could. Deep breaths couldn’t really stop all the heart pumping, but at least it could calm you down a little. I appreciate as well how you capped our predicament with laughter.

And baby, I am proud of you.