The snow was still falling when I looked out at our front path, completely buried, and couldn’t help myself, so I grabbed the shovel and went out to try clearing it.

I tried pushing the snow to the side, but got stuck almost immediately. The snow was so light and fluffy that it just filled up the shovel, and the snow piling up in front just pushed back. I was pushing against a shovel packed with snow and getting nowhere. So I gave up and went back inside.

A little later, my husband went out to clear the path. I watched him take quick, shallow scoops and toss the snow aside each time, never loading up too much. He cleared a big section pretty fast. Watching him, I thought, yeah, trying to push all that snow at once was not going to work. This is how I should do it.

The next day I went back out, copying his technique: scoop, toss, scoop, toss. I was going at it hard, but my hands got sore and my arms gave out pretty quickly. Out of options, I tried pushing the snow forward with the shovel instead — and it worked surprisingly well. That’s when I noticed: overnight, the snow had started to melt. It was denser now, with a thin layer of water between the snow and the ground that made it slide easily. Scraping it up took barely any effort, and pushing it along felt almost effortless too.

The snow had changed completely from the day before. If I hadn’t noticed and just kept shoveling the same way, I probably would have kept working until my arms worn out, taken a break, and started all over again.

Thinking about it after, I feel like a lot of things work this way. When we’re dealing with something, the thing itself might be quietly changing the whole time. Like that snow: fluffy one day, dense the next. The right approach shifts with it. Brute force can get the job done sometimes, but if we stay observant and stay open to trying something different, we might find there’s a better way.

I asked, “What can we do about it?”

She answered, “Clean up,” and started putting the toys back one by one.

In that moment, I had several options: tell her “clean up now,” help her do it, or get upset. But I chose to ask her a question and let her figure it out herself.

Similar situations happen often. When milk spills on the floor or something drops, she calls for us. I often resist the urge to tell her what to do directly and instead ask, “Oh no, what should we do?” She usually responds with “wipe it” or “pick it up.”

I’m not saying directly giving answers is wrong, but I’ve found that guiding through questions helps her think things through and reach her own conclusions. Over time, she’s forming habits: pick up what drops, wipe up spills, clean up scattered toys. These actions come from her, not from my commands. As she grows older, especially when facing challenges, she’ll think about what she can do rather than waiting for someone to tell her the answer.

The book Humble Inquiry talks about how those in positions of authority need to be careful about directly commanding those without authority. I think this especially applies to parent-child relationships.

When children are young, we can use force to make them comply. But if parents constantly say “you should do this or that”, children become dependent, feeling they don’t need to think for themselves. Plus, this “should” type of expression easily triggers defensiveness—the first reaction is often to resist the command rather than accept it.

I’ve noticed that if I say “you should put the toys away,” my toddler might say “no” or drag her feet. But if I say “wow, so many toys on the floor, it’s so messy. What can we do?” she’s much more willing to clean up.

When guiding through questions, the key is staying curious about how my child will respond rather than having a preset answer in my head. For example, when we discover it’s raining outside and I ask, “It’s raining. What can we do?” she might say “wear a hat,” “splash in puddles,” or even “stay home.” If I just tell her “put on rain boots and get an umbrella,” not only does she lose the chance to think, but I also miss the opportunity to understand what’s on her mind.

More importantly, when we ask “what do you think we can do,” we’re not just treating her as an independent person capable of thinking—we’re building trust between us. When a child feels her parents respect and believe in her rather than commanding and controlling her, she’s more willing to cooperate and more willing to seek help when facing difficulties instead of hiding problems. Even though my toddler is still very young, this respect leaves an impression, letting her know she’s capable of solving problems.

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Honestly, this approach takes constant practice. When we are in a rush, saying “hurry up and put on your shoes” is definitely faster. When she’s not doing something well, it’s hard not to just give her the answer. But we do our best to immerse her in this environment of independent thinking. For example, when she doesn’t like eating vegetables and gets a bit constipated, we ask, “How can we make poop softer?” At first, she might just repeat what we’ve said—“drink water, eat vegetables, soft poop”. Gradually, she would start thinking and understanding why these ideas and which of them work best for her, and act accordingly. This is a long-term process that requires patience, giving her time to think and try. That matters far more for her growth than saving a few minutes.

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A few times, she came over asking, “What are you doing, Mommy?” I told her, “Mommy’s washing your underwear.” After watching me several times, she wanted to help too, always trying to grab the underwear while I was washing. So I started walking her through each step: wet the underwear, put soap on it, then rub it with my hands.

One day, Dad was supervising potty time when she had another accident. He put the soiled underwear in the sink and stepped out briefly. When he came back, there she was, standing on her little stool, carefully soaping up the underwear.

“What are you doing?” Dad asked.

“This is soap for washing underwear,” she said seriously.

“Do you know how to scrub?”

She picked up the underwear with her tiny hands and started scrubbing back and forth.

Dad was thrilled: “You’re so awesome! Mommy and Daddy never did things like this when we were little.”

She has surprised us in so many other ways too. When she was really little, she started helping us unload the dishwasher, brush the dogs’ teeth, put the dogs in their crates, and even try to wash herself. Every time she does something like this, we make sure to praise her.

My husband reflected, “She’s becoming exactly how we praise her to be.” He shared how his own mother would always tell people “my son is wonderful” - and he grew up to be the person she said he was.

Kids can tell when praise is genuine. Consistent positive recognition helps them develop a self-image: I’m worthy of praise, I should feel proud of myself.

There’s something in my culture about staying humble, like pointing out what needs improvement matters more than celebrating what’s good. It’s like looking at a half-full glass - many people automatically see what’s missing, while we try to first notice what’s already there.

This mindset helps us be more patient with our daughter, and also kinder to ourselves and each other. We notice our own wins, our family’s strengths, and our child’s progress - and we’re generous with recognition.

Of course, when she really doesn’t do something well, we focus on problem-solving. If something breaks, we think about how to clean it up and prevent it next time, rather than dwelling on the mistake itself.

How we act as parents really shapes our kids’ growth. This is the first environment they experience after birth, and our attitudes deeply influence how they see themselves.

These little people are trying everything for the first time. When we approach what they do with patience and positivity, we’re sending a clear message: you’re accepted, your efforts matter.

How we see our children quietly shapes who they become.

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As my daughter approaches three, she’s becoming increasingly opinionated. Gone are the days when she’d wear whatever we picked out—now if a piece of clothing isn’t the right color, she flat-out refuses. Sometimes we have no choice but to negotiate: “Do you want the red one or the blue one?” If she rejects both options, we let her have some space to cool off.

As her thinking becomes more independent, these moments requiring negotiation are happening more and more. Two recent incidents have given us better insight into what kids this age are going through.

1. The blanket battle

She has one blanket on her bed and another on the rug next to it. One day, despite having a slight cold, she insisted on sleeping on the rug. Since sleeping on the floor would only make her cold worse, we removed the blanket from the rug.

She had an instant meltdown. When we told her the blanket was in the wash, she immediately ran to the laundry room door, determined to get it back. After much back-and-forth, I tried a different approach: “Actually, I haven’t washed it yet. I can give you this blanket, but you need to sleep in your bed tonight—sleeping on the floor will make your cold worse.”

She was reluctant but still wanted that specific blanket. When she wanted to move it to her bed, I said, “If you want to switch it, you’ll have to do it yourself. You can’t expect Mom and Dad to help you rearrange blankets every time.”

She said helplessly, “I can’t pull it.” Her logic was actually quite clear: she couldn’t do it herself and needed our help.

But since we weren’t willing to do it, that opened up room for negotiation. We eventually reached a compromise: she would sleep in her bed, and I would spread the other blanket on the rug.

2. The breakfast standoff

Another morning, running short on time before dropping her off at school and heading to a doctor’s appointment, I heated up a red bean bun for breakfast. But our stubborn little one kept insisting: “I want scallion pancake.”

When I explained there wasn’t time to heat the frozen pancake, she had a complete meltdown. Finally I said, “Mommy has to see the doctor and can’t wait for you. You’ll stay home with Daddy.” Then I left. When I returned home later, I found her quietly playing with toys next to her dad, in a pretty good mood.

Dad filled me in on what happened: “She sat at the dining table by herself, calling out to anyone who would listen, and when she realized no one was responding to her protests, she climbed onto the table, ate the red bean bun, drank her milk, then came over and stuck to me.”

Sometimes giving kids a cooling-off period is necessary. When she’s overly emotional, she can’t hear anything beyond what she wants, but when no one responds to her “protests,” she’ll often figure out how to solve the problem herself.

When emotions are running high, kids need to calm down first—otherwise they won’t listen to anything. As parents, we’re much more level-headed than our children, so we can use different strategies to help them process their emotions before attempting real communication.

Tag-teaming as parents is crucial. When the same person handles these situations repeatedly, frustration builds up. My husband and I take turns during these moments—stepping back helps restore our patience.

Understanding the characteristics of each developmental stage is also important. When she’s developing independent thinking skills, it’s natural for her to stubbornly stick to certain ideas, like insisting on using a specific water bottle. Sometimes if it doesn’t matter, we let her have her way, but when we can’t accommodate her demands, we need to find other ways to guide her, for example talking different topics to distract her, keeping her little brain too busy to focus on the original demand, then guide her in a different direction.

We’ve noticed these negotiation moments are becoming more frequent—especially as we try to respect her growing independence. While it doesn’t always go smoothly, we usually manage to find a middle ground where both sides can compromise a little.

But I never do.

She can’t read yet, so all lyrics are just sounds she picks up from listening. She sings with such joy, and I think that happiness matters more than getting every word “right.”

During dinner once, she watched me put two pieces of apple in my mouth and said seriously, “Mama, don’t put two pieces in your mouth.” I laughed and replied, “Mama’s mouth is big, I can eat them together.” She said “Oh.”

She had established her own “correct” way of eating apples - one small piece at a time, chewing slowly. When she tells me or daddy we’re doing something “wrong,” we tell her, “You have your way, and we have ours.”

I think being obsessed with what’s “right” is actually dangerous. Once we decide there’s only one correct way to do something, we create rigid standards that constrain not only ourselves but also how we judge others. Some children completely melt down when they write a letter wrong, get upset when they put shoes on the wrong feet, or refuse to try again after falling off a scooter. Parents usually comfort them with “it’s okay” and offer to demonstrate the right way, but children often become more resistant. Behind this might be the child feeling pressure that they “must get it right.”

I also have the urge to correct my daughter, but I try to hold back. Children have their own rhythm - if she hears songs enough, she’ll naturally adjust over time. I’m more curious about her interesting “mistakes” than rushing to give the right answer.

For example, she sometimes says “woof” instead of “wool” because she knows woof is the sound dogs make. In her world, these two words are the same.

Many standards we consider “correct” happened to be defined by certain people at certain times. Letters must be written this way, songs must be sung that way - these rules might matter to those who made them, but they don’t necessarily apply to little ones still exploring the world.

Since she turned eighteen months, my daughter’s desire to do things independently has grown stronger. Our approach is simple: if she wants to try something herself, we let her, and ask “Do you need help?” If she says yes, we help; if not, even if she gets a little frustrated, we resist the urge to jump in.

As parents, helping her get things done is easy for us. But some things she can only learn by trying herself, failing a few times, and practicing over and over. That’s how she gets real satisfaction. She does not have to get things “right” the very first time.

I remember growing up with “following the prescribed path” as the default life route: get good grades to be a good student, go to college for a good future. But life actually has many paths. Just like organizing clothes - some people like throwing everything together and finding things like treasure hunting; others prefer folding everything neatly. Finding what works for you is enough; no need to worry about what’s more “correct.”

Thinking of my daughter lost in her own version of songs, swaying happily - that’s enough. Enjoying the process is more interesting than chasing the “right” answer.

I remember shortly after we got married, I slipped and broke a stack of bowls. When the crash echoed through the room, I froze completely. My husband rushed over and his first words were: “Don’t move, be careful not to cut your feet.” Then he crouched down with me to clean up the pieces, without a single complaint or word of blame.

Over all these years, every time I’ve messed something up—burned a dish, ruined rice, broken something—his reaction is always “let’s just cook it again” or “it’s fine, we’ll eat it like this.” I’ve tried to remember, and I really can’t recall him ever criticizing me for these things.

Now it’s my turn. When our daughter spills water everywhere, I show her how to mop it up; when glass breaks, I demonstrate how to clean it safely. No complaints, no blame, just calmly solving the problem.

I hope that in her memory, the first words she hears after making a mistake will always be concern, not criticism—that she won’t fear facing failures and mistakes, but will bravely take responsibility.

Watching our daughter grow day by day, seeing her start to treat the world the way we treat her, I often think about how these seemingly insignificant daily moments are actually shaping a person. Just like how my husband has influenced me over these years—quietly, yet so profoundly.

Time flies so fast—we’ve been married for so many years now. The rhythm between everyone in our family keeps getting better and better. I’ve become more confident, brave, and steady. I can say with certainty that since becoming an adult, my husband has been the person who’s influenced me most in becoming who I am today.

About my husband

My husband and I are different in so many ways. I’m generally someone who follows plans and sticks to routines. My path growing up was pretty typical—good at school, especially quiet as a child, and generally what adults would call well-behaved and pretty obedient. His path was completely different from mine: his experience boarding at school from a young age developed his independence and incredible adaptability. He’s principled yet spontaneous, with unexpected ideas always popping into his head.

At first, I wasn’t used to these differences at all—I thought he was way too unpredictable. But the longer we were together, the more I started to find this “unconventional approach” really interesting. When my plans got thrown off by his sudden ideas, though I had panics at first, we would often end up seeing completely different possibilities because of it. Gradually, I not only adapted to this rhythm, I even started looking forward to what new ideas he would bring. His way of thinking began subtly influencing me, making me more willing to try things outside my plans.

Sometimes I think he’s like a relaxed leopard. A leopard on the savanna appears to lounge lazily in the grass, but once it spots its prey, it leaps up and pursues that target with complete focus. When my husband has a clear goal, he puts all his energy into pursuing it. Whether it’s studying, changing careers, work, or home projects like replacing the air conditioner, expanding rooms, dealing with wasps, fixing plumbing, or taking care of our daughter—he puts his full attention on each thing he wants to do and always gets it done. I really admire this about him.

[Image: Husband fixing the garage door]

Recently, he noticed I was relying on my memory for taking vitamins and medications, sometimes getting frustrated when I forgot. So he developed a medication reminder iPhone app that’s convenient and simple—I use it every day now. Inspired by him, I also made a little app for our daughter to play with.

My husband’s devotion to family has deeply influenced me too. I used to be quite a workaholic, working to the point of neglecting everything else, not really understanding how he felt about things. But he’s really good at considering my feelings and puts our relationship and family needs first.

I remember years ago, my company division was acquired and my position was eliminated. Since I was on a work visa, I had limited time to find another job and had to focus completely on job searching. After more than a month, I finally got a job offer—I was both relieved and exhausted. I told my husband I really wanted to relax and go to Disney World.

At the time, my husband was approaching finals and had exams coming up, but he didn’t hesitate to say we should take a break and go. During our Disney trip, he brought his computer along, playing with me during the day and doing assignments at night. As for his classes during those days—he skipped them all. Missing so much class did affect his grade in one course, but he chose to support me when I really needed it.

After we had our daughter, he switched from a job that required daily office attendance to a fully remote position, giving him more flexible time and better coordination with family activities.

There have been so many moments like this in our life. Sometimes I tell my husband how grateful I am for his support. He always laughs and says, “What else would I do? Of course I would.”

Gradually, I caught up with his pace and learned to shift my attention from being completely focused on work to our little family. I started supporting him better, and we began taking better care of each other’s thoughts and feelings, finding a rhythm that really works for us.

60-60 marriage

We’ve never had a strict “you do this, I do that” arrangement. Overall, our division of labor is pretty equal, just not clearly defined—basically whoever’s available handles it. He cooks delicious food and takes care of most of our lunches and dinners. For breakfast, since it conflicts with his work schedule, I usually just throw something simple together.

A long time ago, he told me his life philosophy: when you’re walking through the house and see something that can be done easily, just do it without making a big deal about telling the other person you did extra or helped them out. For example, if one of us sees clean dishes in the dishwasher and has time, just put them away. If we’re both tired, we’ll leave it a bit longer until we feel like doing it—no big deal.

In the workplace, we emphasize clear responsibilities, individual accountability, and measurable performance. Everyone has their own job description with clearly defined duties, and there are year-end performance reviews to see who accomplished which KPIs. This management approach works well at work—it ensures projects move forward smoothly and prevents people from passing the buck.

But marriage isn’t the workplace. If you bring that “fair division of labor” and “performance evaluation” mindset home, it actually makes the relationship tense. Imagine if we had to write a “household responsibility list”: husband handles trash, plumbing, active play with kid; I handle laundry, organizing, arts and crafts with kid, then sit down monthly to review who did more or less—how exhausting would that be?

Family life is full of variables—sometimes someone gets sick, sometimes work gets crazy busy, sometimes the kid is particularly fussy. If we had to stick strictly to “divisions of labor,” we couldn’t flexibly handle these unexpected situations. More importantly, much of the “work” in a family can’t be quantified: whose hugs are warmer? Who tells more interesting bedtime stories? Who says more healing words when the other person is down? These can’t be measured by KPIs, yet they’re the most important things for family happiness.

I came across an article about “60-60 marriage,” which said couples don’t need clearly defined divisions of labor in marriage. What’s important is both people actively doing more for the family rather than insisting on “fair” divisions. If one person keeps track of what they’ve done and expects the other to do equivalent tasks to be fair—so each contributes exactly 50%—then naturally both will start keeping score of who’s contributed enough and who hasn’t, which easily leads to conflict. However, if both people have the mindset of doing a bit more for the family—each contributing 60%, even just a little more than 50%—life becomes easier and both become more understanding, willing to do more for each other and the family.

After reading this article, I was really struck—so there really is a name for this! We’d been doing exactly this all along, no wonder our relationship feels so easy. At lunch he’ll ask what I want to eat and go out of his way to make it for me; at night when I’m brushing my teeth and see he hasn’t brushed yet, I’ll squeeze toothpaste on his brush and hand it to him. I think our daughter has picked up on how Mommy and Daddy interact—now at the supermarket she’ll grab bags on her own to help us carry fruit.

With caring for our daughter, we continue this “whoever’s available” approach. When he’s free, he plays with her; when I’m free, I do. We don’t keep track of who spent how much time. Unless our little one is particularly clingy with one of us, then the other person makes an effort to spend more time with her. We each have our own ways of being with her: I do crafts, draw, and play with toys with her, while he takes her to parks and hiking. These different approaches aren’t right or wrong—they’re all good.

This probably explains why we didn’t need a nanny or helper when our daughter was born—this household was never just one person doing all the work. Before she was born, we made tons of dumplings and buns together and prepared lots of meals that just needed reheating. The moment our baby was born, he immediately learned from the nurses how to do everything from swaddling to diaper changes to feeding. After we came home, when I couldn’t move around easily, he basically handled all the baby care.

Now our daughter, under our guidance, is gradually becoming independent and self-reliant. From eating independently and sleep training to making decisions on her own, this gives us great confidence facing the arrival of our second baby.

Over time, whether in big or small matters, we naturally support each other. Especially when one of us isn’t feeling well or is going through a tough time, the other person ends up doing way more, but we don’t expect payback to be fair.

But we’re not mind readers—we don’t always know what the other needs. When he needs help, he tells me directly. If it’s something complicated, like when we were expanding our house, he would clearly explain how I could best help him. I used to not get this and would expect him to automatically sense what I needed. But now I’ve learned to communicate directly too, saying things like “I need to go nap, can you watch the baby for a bit” or “can you unload the dishwasher.” This way we have normal communication—help if you can, don’t if you can’t. No hiding needs and expecting the other person to guess your thoughts. I might have thought mind-reading was normal before, but looking back, that was such an exhausting way to live—why bother? What’s wrong with just saying what you need? Honest communication makes both of us way more relaxed.

Because of him, I’ve become more mature and independent

Through these years with my husband, I’ve realized I have a much more independent sense of self. Beyond having lots of space to do our own things, what’s more important is a shift in mindset.

Respecting each other’s boundaries

In getting to know my husband, I’ve gradually come to understand and appreciate his clear sense of boundaries. He really respects my independent personality and way of doing things, never trying to change me. For instance, I like making plans and following steps—he never says “you’re too rigid” or “just relax.” When I get hung up on small things for a long time, he’ll patiently listen to me talk it through, then offer some suggestions, but whether I take his advice is completely up to me.

At first, I’d try to “help” him become more organized, but this often created tension between us. Later I realized he has his own style and rhythm for doing things, and I have my own methods. Since he never tries to change me, why should I try to change him? We learned to accept each other’s styles and adjust when needed. This way of being together is so much more relaxed.

As our daughter grows, she’s also developing this sense of boundaries. We started having her sleep in her own room early on, telling her “baby sleeps in baby’s room, Mommy and Daddy sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s room.” Sometimes when she can’t sleep, she’ll come out of her room, and we’ll hear her little feet pattering back and forth. Sometimes her footsteps stop in front of our door, but she won’t just open it and come in—sometimes she’ll stand there for a while then walk away. We don’t proactively open the door either. Watching her like this, I feel like she’s learning to respect other people’s space while also trying to handle her own emotions and needs.

Come to think of it, my husband’s sense of boundaries is also kind of a family tradition. Because of his early experience boarding at school, he gained the autonomy his family gave him from a young age—they didn’t micromanage everything, giving him lots of space to grow. This gradually built up everyone’s sense of boundaries.

My mother-in-law treats us the same way now. Over these years, she’s lived with us for almost a year total, and never once interfered with how we do things, especially respecting our parenting approach. For some of our ways of doing things, as someone from an older generation, she has different views, but she chooses to look the other way. For example, when we were sleep training our baby, if it wasn’t out-of-control crying, we’d let her cry for a while before stepping in. During these times, my mother-in-law couldn’t bear to listen, but she understood it was a necessary process, so she’d put on headphones or just go out for a walk. She’ll share experiences from her generation with me, but never in a demanding tone telling me I should do things a certain way—it’s more like casual conversation. We can have peaceful chats about our different thoughts. If I disagree she’ll smoothly say “all roads lead to Rome” and we move on.

I think this is just how their family operates—trusting family members’ abilities and giving each other enough space and respect. So during her visits, I feel completely comfortable because I can be 100% myself.

No longer depending on outside validation

I’m naturally very organized, efficient, and detail-oriented, but in my early career right after school, I was often insecure and needed recognition from family and supervisors to feel valuable. When I didn’t get this recognition, I would feel like a total failure. Sometimes when I accomplished something, I’d tell my husband and he’d give me some encouraging words.

But he also once told me: “Your excellence isn’t built on other people’s approval—it’s like how a substance’s chemical properties are determined by internal factors.” That’s just how he is, not caring much about outside opinions, but it took me a long time to really understand what he meant. Through being with him and gaining more life experience, when I can do my best effort, I feel good about myself without needing to expect or crave others’ approval. This mindset has made me so much more relaxed.

I think this inner confidence has unconsciously passed to our daughter too. I remember one day at the park when she was climbing high, she suddenly said “I’m so good!” She wasn’t waiting for us to praise her—she was genuinely proud of her own achievement. Not only that, she often cheers for herself after accomplishing something: “I did it!” I’m so happy for her.

Learning to advocate for myself

Another thing I really admire about my husband is his willingness to stand up for himself. He worked in the service industry for a while, so he has high standards for customer service. When he encounters crappy service or people trying to brush him off, he’ll contact the service provider to protect his interests.

This was something I had almost never done before. I had all sorts of reasons for not wanting to: sometimes thinking “forget it, whatever you say goes,” not wanting to get into conflicts; sometimes not knowing how to respond and just staying quiet. But I don’t think this way anymore, because this is exactly about advocating for my own interests. If I can’t even make sure I get the service I’m paying for and just act all gracious about it, that’s actually not normal.

When I see him protecting his rights, I’m really supportive and admiring, and I hope someday I can always do the same without getting all worked up about it. I’ll admit, sometimes when I try to advocate for these rights now, I still feel a bit awkward, a bit pushy. But my thinking has totally changed: why should I just accept it? If I paid for a service, I need to understand what’s going on—if I don’t advocate for my own interests, who will?

This attitude is important in so many areas of life, from small things like being overcharged for something to bigger things like fighting for promotions at work or facing unfair treatment. I need to learn to do this myself and teach our daughter to do the same. This is a really important step in becoming independent.

Reflections

I increasingly love our life rhythm. Even with all the complexity of life and work, I can still maintain this sense of ease. This ease comes from clearly knowing where my life’s center is—family comes first, and everything else gets prioritized based on that. I have no doubt this can keep getting better and better, because as a team, we seem capable of accomplishing anything.

The most important thing for two people together is mutual support, protection, and admiration. When we admire each other, we can always think the best of each other and enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes when we’re tired and don’t want to move, we just rest. When we feel like it, we tackle things together. People don’t need to keep themselves constantly wound up.

He truly deserves to be called the person who’s influenced me most positively since becoming an adult. We don’t have any grand long-term plans, but this flexible approach to life fills us with confidence. Living each day in this family, I feel like I’m always at my best, and that feeling itself is worth celebrating.

We also hope that through our subtle influence, our daughter will learn this relaxed yet steady approach to life.

Thank you for walking alongside me.

Early on, she was scared of bath time. I had to climb into the tub with her and sit behind her while she played with her rubber duck. I would then rinse her off with the handheld shower, and by the end, I was always soaked.

When my husband took over baths, he did things totally differently. He sat beside the tub and chatted with her while she splashed around. When she was done playing, he rinsed her off and lifted her out.

I loved this approach. I started doing the same thing—sitting on the edge of the tub, making casual conversation: “Where’s that duck going?” She plays happily while I stay dry and relaxed.

This whole thing reminded me of feedback my old manager gave me: “You’re super reliable, which is great. But the problem is everyone always comes to you with their issues. When you become the person who fixes everything, you can’t step back, and no one else gets to develop their problem-solving skills.” It took me a long time to understand what he meant. Whether you’re on a team or leading one, doing everything yourself actually hurts everyone’s growth. It’s exactly like always washing the kid—they never learn to do it themselves.

Our family works well now because my husband and I tag in and out with parenting—whoever’s free takes over, instead of everything falling on mom.

For bedtime, my husband taught her: “If you can’t fall asleep right away, just close your eyes and rest. You can whisper to yourself or hum a little song.” Now she’s totally fine saying goodnight and settling in by herself, even if she doesn’t fall asleep immediately. On weekend mornings when we want to sleep in, she’ll wake up and babble to herself, giving us time to make breakfast before getting her up. When we’re not actively playing with her, she finds ways to entertain herself—singing, hiding under blankets, playing with her toys—instead of constantly needing our attention.

This independence develops gradually through everyday moments. My husband and I believe children are meant to forge their own paths. Our job isn’t to make them perpetually dependent on us, but to gradually equip them with the skills to navigate life without us. If we constantly think “my child needs me,” we’ll struggle to give them space to try things independently. But when we trust their capacity to grow and create the right environment for exploration, we’re often amazed by her capabilities.

Take something as simple as bath time—I assumed she needed our help because she was so young. But just by changing our approach, she began exploring independence on her own.

Sometimes what children need most isn’t more help from us, but more space to discover what they can do themselves.

For a while, we took the bump bump route almost every single time. Later, when traffic lights didn’t line up right or other situations came up, I’d tell her, “Sweetie, we can’t do bump bump today. Let’s try again next time.” Most of the time, she would be pretty okay with it.

But you know how toddlers are – sometimes when she’s cranky or really has her heart set on something, she’ll start pushing back. Even after initially agreeing not to take bump bump, right when we’re about to miss the turn, she’ll suddenly announce, “I want bump bump!” When this happens, I’ll say, “We can’t do it this time, so Mama will just pick a route.” Then we’ll drive past the plaza, and I’ll narrate our journey: “There’s the big grocery store, there’s the bakery, there’s the cake shop, there’s the clothing store, there’s the pharmacy.” She joins in with her sweet little voice, which is absolutely adorable.

Of course, We can’t always find a substitute activity. Sometimes we just have to say no. For instance, when she’s in the backseat demanding “Daddy look at me,” he’ll respond, “Daddy’s driving right now and needs to keep my hands on the steering wheel. I can’t look at you until we stop the car.” Sometimes she gets upset, but there’s nothing we can do – it has to wait until we’re safely stopped.

Food is the same story. When she really wants something, she’ll repeat it over and over. Like right before dinner, she might desperately want a pouch of apple sauce, and we’ll remind her of our established rule: “Mommy and Daddy said snacks come after meals. Apple sauce is a snack, so we eat it after dinner.” Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t – she’ll puff out her little cheeks and keep saying “apple sauce,” and she might even have a complete meltdown. That’s when we need to let her sit with her feelings for a bit.

What’s funny is that sometimes she’ll talk to herself: “Eat dinner first, then snacks.” She’ll repeat this to herself multiple times, but even after saying it, she’ll still want snacks before dinner. That’s just how it is – she’s little and doesn’t have much self-control yet. Honestly, don’t adults sometimes want to grab a little something before meals too?

Through all these daily moments, I’ve come to realize that toddlers are incredibly spontaneous in what they say. You can’t treat their words like a binding contract. Kids’ thoughts change constantly, and parents need to stay flexible. When I think about it, do adults always follow through on everything they say? Of course not. We find this perfectly normal when it comes to ourselves – we can rationalize our changes of heart. But little kids can’t clearly explain their reasoning yet, so it’s hard for us to understand what’s going on in their minds. They probably don’t have a clear reason – something just pops into their head.

So don’t expect little ones to automatically do what they hear or stick with every idea they have. If we actually demanded “you just said this, so you absolutely have to follow through,” that would be way too much pressure for them. Cut ourselves some slack, cut our kid some slack, and we will discover lots of interesting things along the way. Watching her grow day by day while we learn to become better parents – there’s something really beautiful about growing together like this.

She’s totally obsessed with cracking eggs right now. She recently figured out how to use chopsticks to scramble them, and she’s pretty good at it now. When I’m making breakfast and need eggs, I’ll ask, “Want to help with the eggs?” and she comes running.

Now she can crack eggs on the bowl’s edge, set the shells aside, and use chopsticks to beat the eggs. When she’s cracking them, she grabs the egg with her little hands and tries to poke her fingers through the shell to open it. She hasn’t quite mastered where to grip the egg to crack it cleanly, so sometimes she squeezes too hard and crushes the whole thing. She has spilled egg all over the counter more times than I can count, but it’s not a big deal. I just keep paper towels handy, let her wipe her hands, and fish out any shell pieces from the bowl. After that, she’s completely in charge.

I can totally hand off the whole egg task to her now—when she’s done, she’ll announce “All done!” and I’ll take over from there.

She has also started helping take care of our dogs. I brush their teeth regularly, and the moment she got interested, I started letting her watch. One day she really wanted to brush their teeth, so I let her try brushing our big dog’s. Her technique definitely needs work, so I hold her hands to guide her while we do it together.

Afterward, she puts the dogs in their crates, throws in their dental chews, and tells them “bye-bye, good night”. One day I watched her smoothly crate the dogs, lock them in, toss in the treats, and say goodnight—and I was genuinely amazed. These were all things I never imagined a two-year-old could do so effortlessly.

When I think about it, maybe this isn’t so surprising: kids grow by doing small things, over and over.

So many little tasks seem trivial to adults—things we can just bang out without thinking. Why hand them over to a little kid who’ll probably just make a bigger mess? But that’s exactly the point: all these big and small experiences add up to shape who they become and how they approach things later on.

We love watching her figure these things out. We do our best to stay chill about it—we don’t expect perfection or demand that everything be spotless. When you’re parenting and want to keep your sanity, you have to let go of the small stuff and let them try. Little by little, we’ve realized there are actually things we can hand over to her. Some tasks we just supervise, like feeding the dogs or getting them in their crates. Other things she can handle by herself, like scrambling eggs or washing fruit, which gives us a chance to tackle something else.

This way, she’s happy, we’re less stressed, and it feels like we’re onto something good.

I’m not one of those moms who saves all the good stuff just for their kid. When she’s eating something, I’ll ask, “Is that yummy?” If she says yes, I’ll say, “Mama likes it too. Can you give Mama a bite?” Sometimes she refuses and stuffs everything in her mouth at once, and I’ll happily watch her finish it all. If she’s willing to share a little with me, I happily eat it up.

At home, my husband and I also share treats with each other. He’ll offer me some of what he’s eating, and I’ll let him try what I have. Our toddler sees all of this.

Over time, she started sharing her fruit and snacks with us on her own.

When eating ice cream, she’ll hold it and say, “Baby half, Mama half.” I’ll split it in half, and we’ll eat it together with spoons. Sometimes when I don’t want any, I’ll say, “Thank you, but Mama doesn’t want ice cream today. It’s all yours!” She’ll happily eat the whole thing.

Once during dinner, as I was about to reach for some vegetables, she said, “Mama don’t move, this is for Mama.” Then she used her chopsticks to pick up some food and fed it to me.

Another time at the store, she had a small bag of fruit gummies. After opening it, she handed me the first piece, then gave one to Daddy.

What struck me was that I hadn’t asked her for any, but she just did it so naturally. I think it’s because sharing is just a natural thing in our family - not something that’s demanded, but something she learns from watching our daily life. That’s why she picked it up so quickly and naturally.

Watching her share with us like this feels way more effective than lecturing her about sharing.

One of the hardest parts of parenting is finding the balance between a child’s comfort zone and challenges: when to encourage them to be brave and try something new, and when to let them take a break? I’ve found that instead of struggling to guess where my child’s limits are, it’s better to help her tell us herself.

I’ve been in situations where I felt overwhelmed but didn’t know how to respond, so I pushed through anyway, enduring the pressure and ending up in a really tough spot. Fortunately, over the years I’ve learned to understand myself better and judge more accurately whether a situation is right for me.

Since it took me so many years to learn this skill, could I try teaching it to my child from an early age?

One time while playing with my toddler, I was tickling her here and there, and she was giggling away. But being tickled too much is definitely uncomfortable, and I noticed she didn’t know how to tell me to stop, so I taught her: “If you don’t want Mama to tickle you, just say ‘Mama no’ or ‘Mama stop.’”

The next time I tickled her, she actually used it. While laughing, she said: “Mama no!” I immediately stopped and praised her for telling me. Being able to recognize her feelings and express them was a really important step.

Later I realized that my toddler had always been expressing her boundaries in her own way - I just hadn’t realized I needed to “translate” these signals.

At the playground, when facing challenging equipment, sometimes she’d be curious and want to try, sometimes she’d stop halfway up, or back away and ask to be held.

I realized she was actually telling us her state all along, just using her own “language” - body movements, facial expressions, simple words. If she said “no,” I’d say “Okay, let’s take a break.” If she looked eager but hesitant, I’d encourage her: “Want to try? Mama and Daddy are here if you need help.”

Often, parents’ expectations can create invisible pressure on children. I do this too - when I see a gap between my child’s current state and my expectations, I think about how to “close the gap.” But if we’re constantly pushing children to meet certain standards, it’s easy to ignore their real feelings.

When children can express their own state, I actually worry less. She tells me when she wants to take on a challenge and when she needs to slow down. This makes things much easier for me too - no more struggling to guess and judge.

I hope she can gradually learn to tell family and friends what makes her uncomfortable, and apply this skill in different situations. I used to have trouble saying “no” - when faced with overwhelming challenges, I didn’t know how to express myself and always felt awkward about refusing others. Having this ability from childhood would probably save so much internal struggle.

I think the best balance between comfort zone and challenges might not be something we parents control for our children, but rather giving them the tools to express themselves and the experience of being respected. After all, no one knows their own state better than they do. What we need to do is perhaps just listen and trust their judgment.

These are just my thoughts right now. As my child grows, there will surely be new discoveries. Parenting really is learning as we go.

After a while, I asked again, “Would you like to take off your shoes and go in the water?” She said, “No.”

What happened next really struck me: she stood by the water’s edge with her little bucket and shovel, quietly watching others play in the water. I sat behind her, watching silently. Time felt so slow—maybe ten minutes.

Suddenly, she turned around and said, “No water.” I said, “That’s fine. Want to come sit with mama?” She sat with me for a bit, then went off to play in the sand.

In that moment, I realized: she was setting a boundary with me, and I chose to respect it.

Every child has their own personality. They won’t like doing everything, or sometimes they’re just not ready for certain activities. When a child clearly says they don’t want to do something, I think they’re communicating a boundary to the adults around them.

Some people don’t understand boundaries—when someone says no, they keep pushing anyway. But acknowledging boundaries is itself a form of respect.

I trust that she can make decisions that are right for her, without me forcing her to do what I think she “should” do as a parent. At the lake, I didn’t pressure her to get in the water or say, “Look, everyone else is playing—why won’t you?” If she doesn’t feel comfortable, then the activity has no meaning for her. Her decision surely had reasons.

Some might worry: doesn’t this kind of “respect” spoil children? Won’t it make them willful? Let me be clear: respecting boundaries doesn’t mean having no rules. Some things are non-negotiable, especially safety issues. Using car seats, holding hands when crossing streets, not hitting others—these aren’t choices. Boundaries exist within reasonable limits. We’re giving children the right to express their preferences within a safe, reasonable framework, not the privilege to do whatever they want.

We see this boundary-pushing everywhere: a child says they don’t want to eat something, and parents keep coaxing, “Just one bite.” A child acts shy in an unfamiliar environment, and parents force them: “Say hello to auntie! How rude!” When someone clearly says “no,” others continue to challenge it, seemingly trying to flip that “no” into a “yes.”

We all know changing others is difficult, so why do we keep challenging people’s boundaries? What if we could all acknowledge that boundaries exist? What if we accepted that some things don’t need to be done now, can be done later, or might never be done at all?

I used to not know how to respond when people challenged my boundaries, but I’ve become more aware of this recently. Now when I don’t want to do something, I say so clearly. I’ve become more confident, and I don’t want to say what others want to hear just to please them. I think this is especially important for my daughter—as a girl, she needs to have her own clear viewpoint and express it.

If we always say what others want to hear, people will think our boundaries are easily pushed, leading to more challenges. People who truly respect us know when to stop.

This respect starts with how we treat our children. Everyone is an individual. When we teach children from an early age to both express their own boundaries and respect others’ boundaries, we’re raising someone with more empathy and understanding of respect.

The "Look" game that never gets old

She has this game where she says "look look" while we're eating, because she wants to see what's in our mouths. We play along, opening wide for her inspection. Then I'll turn it around with "Now Mommy wants to look!" and she'll happily open her little mouth too. She is never tired of this game, and we'll keep it going as long as time allows.

Adventures with the laundry basket

We have a lightweight laundry basket at home that she loves to climb into and wear over her head like a turtle shell. I'll pretend I can't see her: "Where did my girl go? I can't find her anywhere!" She runs around trying not to laugh. Sometimes she'll run right up to me, and I'll still act puzzled: "I thought I heard her, but I don't see her!" She then giggles, and can keep this up for a good twenty minutes.

The wonderful connections her mind makes

She constantly surprises me with unexpected word combinations. She's a big fan of "dragon fruit," and recently learned about "dragonflies" at school. Out of nowhere, she announced: "Dragon fly wearing dragon fruit on the head!" I echo her words, and we both laugh. I'd never think of such playful connections because my mind is too structured by experience, but her imagination has no limits. You never know what she'll come up with next. Watching her mind work is truly fascinating.

The "Yes, and..." approach

These interactions remind me of the "Yes, and..." technique from improv comedy: when someone offers an idea, you accept it (Yes), and then build on it (and). I like this approach, and I don't hijack her ideas to teach a lesson or correct her thinking. I don't say things like "Well actually, dragonflies couldn't wear fruit because they're too small," turning our fun moment into a science lesson.

Instead, I simply follow wherever her thoughts lead, with no agenda. When she says "Mommy use soap," I just respond "Thank you for the reminder, I'll use soap" and show her the bubbles forming in my hands. She'll give a satisfied "mmm" in response.

Sometimes she seems to be talking directly to me, other times she's just thinking out loud. Either way, if she's nearby, I acknowledge what she says. If she points out "Big truck coming," I'll say "You're right, that truck is huge!" These simple responses let her know I'm listening and that her observations matter.

Creating a space with fewer "No's”

I do my best to create a world for her with fewer "no's" than most kids hear. This reminds me of something an executive I respect once shared: growing up, his family rarely told him things weren't allowed. He believes this shaped him into someone who's bold, creative, and eager to tackle challenges instead of shying away from them.

When children constantly hear "no," "don't touch," or "be careful", their natural curiosity gradually fades. But in a space where trying things and sometimes failing is okay, that curiosity thrives. This doesn't mean letting her do anything dangerous - it's about offering positive guidance within safe boundaries.

So when she wants to try something new, I usually let her go for it. If she's not quite ready, we just wait until she is. I want her to grow at her own pace, develop her own perspective, and build the confidence she'll need to face whatever comes her way.

We once had a German Shepherd who later passed away from illness. Before my daughter was born, I often thought about how to let her grow up with a large dog. I believed this would help build her confidence, based on my own experience.

We already had a small dog at home, but small dogs are easy to manage – if they misbehave, you can simply pick them up. A German Shepherd is completely different. At 60 - 80 pounds, you can't just pick it up when it misbehaves – you need to train it properly.

There was a time when I didn't know how to properly interact with our large dog. The dog would lead me instead of me leading it. Later, as we learned better training methods and established clear boundaries, our relationship with the dog gradually improved. I wanted to give my daughter this same valuable experience.

About two months before my baby was born, I came across an adoption listing for a female German Shepherd and decisively brought her home.

As a newborn, my daughter showed no reaction to either of our dogs. Around her first birthday, she began to recognize these creatures and started feeding them treats.

After she learned to walk, she began to fear the large dog. She didn't mind the small dog because of its size, but the German Shepherd was much bigger than her, and she would cry whenever it bumped into her. I taught her to tell the dog "no" and "sit."

After turning two, my daughter started interacting more with the dogs and began acting like a little owner, loudly telling the dog to "move" and giving other commands. Though her words weren't clear and neither dogs really listened to her, what mattered was that she was no longer afraid of them.

This reminds me of the term "acclimatization" from hiking – getting used to a new environment over time. I think my daughter was slowly getting comfortable with the dogs and learning how to handle both the small and large ones.

Recently, she's enjoyed putting the large dog in its crate and letting it out. She also started paying attention to the small dog's eating habits. The small dog is somewhat picky, and my daughter will watch to make sure it eats, sometimes hand-feeding it or placing food on the ground to encourage it.

I've found many similarities between raising kids and training dogs. The most important is setting clear boundaries. Dogs and children are alike – if you let them take charge completely, it's like running a meeting without any control. The result is often a mess.

While kids and dogs need some freedom, as parents or dog owners, we still need to guide them. Kids can make some choices on their own, but parents must know when to say "no" and when to step in. This creates a good balance between freedom and needed guidance.

Watching my daughter go from fearing the big dog to bossing it around, I think my decision to have her grow up with a large dog was right. Though it takes time and patience, seeing the pride on her face when a much larger animal follows her orders is priceless. This experience will help build her confidence and help her face other challenges as she grows up.

When my daughter was just a few months old, she didn't seem afraid of strangers – she would watch everything around her with curious eyes. When she was around 1.5 years old, though, that changed. I'd pick her up from daycare and she'd run happily through the hallway, but the moment she saw someone unfamiliar, she'd quickly come back to me and grab my hand. When people would say hello, she'd just press her lips together and stare, not saying anything.

Even with teachers she clearly liked, she rarely started conversations. I tried to be a good example by cheerfully greeting her teachers and classmates while encouraging her to wave. She almost never says hello first, yet she remembers everyone's name and would later tell me who did what during the day.

Then came a surprising video from daycare. The kids had just finished singing with a visiting music teacher, and after the teacher praised them, a confident little voice said "ABCDEFG!" When the teacher asked, "Would you like to hear the alphabet song? I think that’s a great song!" I couldn't believe it was my supposedly shy little girl speaking up so boldly!

This made me think about my own childhood. I was always called the "quiet one," the kid who never raised her hand from elementary through high school. When teachers called on me anyway, I would freeze up completely. Even in graduate school, the one time I voluntarily asked a question, my heart beat so hard I thought everyone could hear it. Early in my career, I dreaded meetings, and my mind would go blank whenever it was almost my turn to speak.

I wonder – how much of my "shyness" was just me living up to what everyone told me I was? After hearing "you're so quiet" over and over, I probably just accepted it as true. The more I believed "I'm just not a talker," the less likely I was to speak up, which only confirmed what everyone thought about me. It became a cycle – I was labeled quiet, so quiet I became.

It wasn't until much later that I finally got comfortable speaking in groups. These days, I'm often the first one asking questions in meetings. The change didn't happen quickly – I was just so tired of my own silence that I joined a speaking club and made myself say at least one thing in every team meeting. Little by little, the nervous feeling went away.

Watching that video of my daughter made me so happy. This little person, who I'd thought of as "a bit shy," was confidently expressing herself without hesitation. In her mind, it probably wasn't some brave act – she just wanted to sing the alphabet song! At her age, she was already much further along than I had been.

It's amazing how quick we are to put labels on people – "shy," "outgoing," "talkative," "reserved" – completely missing how differently we behave in various situations. Just look at me – the "quiet girl" who now talks a lot in meetings. People are always changing, with different sides showing at different times.

As a mom, I want to see all the sides of my daughter, not just the ones that match what I assume about her. Some days she might want to watch quietly, other days she might want to be the center of attention. All these parts make her who she is, and each one deserves to be seen and appreciated. I just want to be there as she discovers herself, giving her the space to find her own way in her own time.

A little story about spilled water

The other day, my little one was playing in the bathroom by herself. Suddenly, I heard her call out: "Spilled!"

When I hurried over, I found her busily wiping the floor with our countertop cloth.

"Water spill?" I asked.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, still wiping away.

"Thanks for getting a cloth when the water spilled! You've wiped most of it - let me help finish." She handed me the cloth.

When I told my husband later, we both felt so proud. She didn't just notice the problem - she jumped right in to solve it and knew when to get help.

Another time, she accidentally broke a glass soap bottle while playing. Instead of scolding her, I simply said, "Stay still. There's glass on the floor. Mommy will clean it up." No lecture - just problem-solving. Now I notice when she handles things, she sometimes whispers to herself, "Be careful, don't drop." That self-reminder works far better than any criticism from others ever could.

Accidents or intentional behavior?

I've learned to distinguish between accidents and intentional behavior. When my child accidentally spills or breaks something, criticism serves no purpose. We all have clumsy moments.

The best approach is focusing on fixing the situation, not dwelling on how it happened. Of course, intentional misbehavior calls for guidance, but that's different from an accident.

After we've solved a problem, a gentle "let's be careful next time" might help, but during the cleanup, keeping our focus on solutions teaches kids how to handle mishaps constructively.

Why skip the blame game?

It's tempting to say things like "How could you be so careless?" or "You've spilled water again!" But these comments don't help - they just release our frustration while making our kids feel worse.

If I criticized my daughter regularly, she'd probably start hiding her mistakes or become too afraid to tell me when things go wrong. That's the last thing I want.

I don't buy into "tough talk but soft heart" parenting. If your heart is truly soft, why not let your words match? Kids are figuring out how the world works, and our reactions shape their understanding in powerful ways.

When we focus on solving problems together, children learn that mistakes happen to everyone, solutions matter more than blame, and asking for help is always okay.

Creating a blame-free home

This approach works for everyone, not just kids. My husband sets an example and has helped shape how I parent. If one of us forgets to turn off the stove, the other simply turns it off and says, "The stove's off now," instead of "You forgot the stove again?"

Nobody's perfect. When family members know their mistakes won't trigger criticism but instead understanding and help, our home feels safer and more peaceful. We can all be honest about problems and work together on solutions.

Playing blocks: starting with knocking them down

I've seen parents ask: "What should I do when my child gets upset because their block tower falls?" This question is interesting because I can't remember our girl ever getting upset about blocks falling. I wondered why.

When she was very little, we played with blocks together. She didn't understand stacking blocks yet and couldn't follow what I was building. So I would build a small tower, then guide her hand to knock it down: "Come on, knock them down!" Then I'd cheer, "You knocked down the blocks!" I'd build again, and we'd knock them down again.

Infants can't do much. I couldn't expect her to understand blocks or how to stack them, but knocking blocks down is easy—just touch them. So I'd stack a few blocks, we'd knock them down together, and repeat. This probably made an impression on her.

From knocking down to building up

As she grew, she started stacking blocks herself. Sometimes after stacking several blocks, she would proudly show us and say "So good!" Then she would push them down on purpose and laugh, "Knocked down!" Both building and knocking down seemed fun for her. Sometimes while building, the blocks would fall, and she'd scatter them everywhere. If she felt like it, she'd rebuild; otherwise, she'd play with something else. When she played happily by herself, we didn't interfere much, only helping when asked or cheering when she wanted praise.

Changing how we play a bit

Recently, I built a tall, wobbly tower with her and said: "Now blow it down!" She blew at the blocks, and when they fell, she was thrilled. Because her lungs are small, sometimes she couldn't blow hard enough. Then I’d say: "Try using your head to knock it down!" She would bump it with her head, the blocks would crash down, and she'd clap excitedly, saying "So good!" while we cheered together.

After that, she started trying different ways to knock down blocks—using her head, arms, and other methods—then happily rebuilding. I think she now sees blocks falling as part of the game. Something that might seem like a "failure" can, with a different view, become a step toward success or another kind of success itself.

Thinking about the future

As our girl grows, life will get more complicated. She'll face challenges that need more effort and will experience many setbacks that might frustrate her. She'll need to find her own ways to build confidence. In these early years, we can support her, help build her initial confidence, and show her that challenges and setbacks are normal, so she can learn to overcome them later. People often develop resilience only through their own experiences or by facing similar situations many times.

This process happens one step at a time; it's hard to imagine what things will be like years from now. For these future challenges she will face, the journey ahead is long.

One day after breakfast, while my toddler was playing with her toy cars, I started organizing the dishwasher and asked her to help put away the dishes. She ran over happily to help.

I handed her the stack of four plastic bowls, and she opened their drawer where bowls and plates are organized. These bowls usually go on top of the small plates.

"Take one by one, or drop," she said, and began placing the stack of bowls on the small plates. When I asked her to put away the plates from the dishwasher, she found a problem: the bowls she had just placed were sitting on top of the plates already in the drawer.

Since the plates needed to go under the bowls, I watched her think about this puzzle. After a few seconds, she found a solution - moving the bowls to a nearby chair while saying "one by one." With the bowls safely on the chair, she put all the plates in the drawer. Then she picked up the bowls from the chair, still saying "one by one," and put them back on top of the plates. Once done, she closed the drawer and ran off to play.

What amazed me was that I had only told her where things belonged in the drawer, waiting to see if she would ask for help when stuck. Instead, she came up with her own solution: move the bowls to the chair, stack all the plates, then put the bowls back. This simple step-by-step plan formed naturally in her young mind.

If I had jumped in right away to tell her how to handle the bowls and plates, this moment of solving a problem on her own would have been lost.

We've learned that stepping back to watch our toddler handle challenges often shows us what she can do. While some problems need adult help, many are chances for learning. We're training ourselves not to jump in right away, instead asking, "Do you need help?" Sometimes she says yes, sometimes no - we will let her continue. Both answers are fine.

How parents act makes a big difference in how children grow. When we see children as capable and let them solve problems, they slowly become more independent. But if parents solve every problem, children don't learn these skills as well and depend more on others. When these children are older and expected to do things on their own, they struggle - not because they can't learn, but because they haven't had enough practice.

We want our child to grow up independent, so we guide her toward this goal through small moments like these every day.

I grew up in a purely Chinese-speaking environment. Although I started learning English in third grade and continued through college, with some exposure to English through tapes and cartoons at home, English remained something "foreign" to me. My main sources of English were just classes and occasional American TV shows.

Even when I planned to study abroad in an English-speaking country, I only thought about how English would help me access more information and read more books. I never imagined it would change the way I speak. After living abroad and reaching a certain level of English proficiency, I found myself code-switching between Chinese and English. Sometimes when speaking Chinese, I naturally slip in English words - after being in an English environment for so long, certain concepts just flow better in English, and I don't bother translating them back to Chinese.

When I first arrived in the USA, despite years of English study, my practical language skills were poor. For at least the first few years, I struggled with spoken communication. I had to think of what I wanted to say in Chinese first, then translate it to English before speaking - a time-consuming process. But with dedicated practice, now I can express myself naturally and accurately in English without that mental translation step.

Interestingly, my toddler, who experiences Chinese at home and English at daycare, started mixing languages much earlier than I did. She says things like "Mama hug" or "Baba (daddy) help" or "Baba (daddy) show me." These English verbs clearly come from daycare, since at home we usually teach her the Chinese equivalents like "抱抱" (hug) or "给你看一下" (show you). At school, teachers use English words with actions to help children naturally understand and internalize these expressions.

Through observing both my own and my child's language learning experiences, I've realized that environment has a far deeper influence than we might imagine. When learning a language or trying to develop any habit, immersing ourselves in the right environment can significantly impact both the method and speed of learning. For example, in a home where parents love reading and books are easily accessible, children are more likely to develop reading habits. If music often fills the house, children naturally develop an appreciation for it. Of course, this also means negative environments can have adverse effects on children, and breaking away from such influences often requires external intervention or conscious change.

This is why my husband and I pay special attention to cultivating good habits in our child. We believe habits are formed through daily accumulation - good habits you see in a three-year-old started developing at age one or two. You can't expect a child who lived in chaos during early years to suddenly become self-disciplined at age five.

As adults, we're also deeply influenced by our work and living environments. Our spouses, bosses, and colleagues' behaviors affect our own, but we have the judgment to filter these influences. However, children are like blank canvases, and environmental influences are particularly crucial because they imitate everything around them without discrimination. Therefore, the guidance from family and society becomes even more important for young children.

This is a new challenge for us as parents, and we continue to observe, reflect, and adjust our approach to raising our child.

That's when I came across a term that I like: Player Coach.

It reminded me of the mentorship role we have at my company. When new team members join, we pair them with experienced colleagues as mentors. As a mentor myself, I prefer building a close relationship with newcomers, offering guidance and support where needed rather than doing the work for them.

While this balance is relatively easy to maintain in a work setting, as parents, we often fall into the trap of doing everything for our little ones. Yes, we can do things faster and better, but this actually hinders their growth. I've written before about how doing things together with children is a great approach. As they get older, they might start refusing too much help from parents, so I try to make the most of their natural curiosity about new things to create shared experiences.

For instance, when making buns, my little one shows interest in the dough and rolling pin, so I give her a small rolling pin and some dough to play with beside me.

When cleaning up dog poop in the backyard, I invite her along to help spot the poop and hold the bag - sometimes leading to funny moments I can't help but sketch into comics.

During toy cleanup, I let her put toys in the storage box and hold blocks in my hands for her to push into the container. While she might only complete a small part of any given task, these small actions add up over time and form habits.

I had a delightful surprise recently: my little one started playing with adult shoes. I noticed her take a pair of my shoes from the rack, walk around in them, and then - without any prompting - neatly put them back. She seemed perfectly happy doing this on her own, and I didn't say a word, just occasionally checking what she was up to. It made me realize our Player Coach approach was working. Through companionship and guidance, children can gradually develop good habits.

Finding this balance takes time: I can't help too much or too little, and I need to resist the urge to constantly correct their behavior or expect more from them. While it requires constant adjustment, maintaining an exploratory mindset helps me find what works best.

I'm happy with this approach so far and will keep watching to see how it continues to work.