We follow a limited screen-time at home for our daughter. Even at that, we’ve been having a hard time keeping our daughter sit still on the sofa whilst watching her videos. She wants to have her face just a couple of inches away from the monitor. We’ve thought of many ways how to keep her face away from the monitor including drawing scary faces and taping it on the monitor’s edge which proved effective for a couple or so days. And then we’re back to square one again.

Last week, Hubs remembered that Yui gets scared of Daruma-san. So he thought of putting the charm atop the monitor. Like magic, it worked and Yui really did keep away from the monitor.

Until one evening. I was in the kitchen cooking when she ran to me, calling “Mommy, Mommy!”, her voice urgent. When I looked up, she was running to me holding the Daruma in her right hand, her right arm stretched as far away from her face as she could, her face also angled away from the Daruma, her eyes on a squint watching out for the Daruma yet at the same time (probably) checking it that it didn’t creep up her arm.

Instantly, I was barraged with a number of emotions. Of course there was the small chagrin of seeing our scare-tactic failing again. But the most prevalent of all the emotion was pride and wonderment. That this little lady faced her fears just so she can be where she wanted to be. That this little lady overcame her fear and handled her fear bravely, this fear that hindered her from fully enjoying what she wanted to do. And yes, there’s that Mommy joy, rejoicing with the fact that my little child is fully confident that Mommy is always there to support her.

Probably one of the most difficult things a parent has to do is knowing when to give your child a helping hand and when to hold yourself at bay and let your child be. You don’t want your child to be crippled with dependence and yet you don’t want to see your child helpless.

Yet again, I had that moment early this evening, seemingly mundane though it may be for older kids. I was then putting my coat in the closet, intent on helping Yui with her layers after depositing our bags. Before I turned to her though, she called my attention and was already handing over to me her outermost winter vest. She earned a praise for this since she was able to work through the zipper. She then went on unzipping her second jacket. I know this one will be more difficult than the vest because of the almost tight sleeves. And so as she struggled I was also struggling within, whether I should go and help her already. A lump was already forming in my throat and 99% of me wanted to assist her especially since she called out “Mommy” already.

But thankfully, I sided with the 1% of me and held my ground. To remove the lump on my throat, I cheered her on, told her she can do it, told her to have some strategy. She kept an eye contact with me and I tried to muster an encouraging expression, a smile on my face while cheering her on.

When she was finally able to remove the jacket, the look on her face was priceless; there’s that unmistakable joy of achievement for doing something by herself. So glad I held on. If I had helped her, I would have had robbed her of that joy of achievement.

We pray we’ll have the wisdom to always know when to lend a hand or when to just sit back and encourage.