Some Lessons a Mother Cannot Learn for Her Child

There is one sentence I used to say a lot.

"I told you so."

When my child was smaller, that sentence appeared almost every week.

Don't climb up there, it is too high.

Don't run so fast.

Don't stand on the chair.

Don't play with that.

I said many things. Some of them were right. Some were simply because I was worried.

But children are different.

They do not discover the world through reminders. They discover it with their own feet, their own hands, and the times they... fall.

Then the thing I feared most happened.

My child cried.

I ran over.

And almost by reflex, the first sentence was:

"I told you so."

...

Later, when I thought about it, I realized that sentence did not help at all.

My child was hurt.

My child was scared.

My child was crying.

In that moment, there was no room for another explanation.

What my child needed was not to know that I had been right.

What my child needed was to know that I was there.

From the moment I understood that, I started to change.

Now, if my child falls, I follow a very simple order.

First, I check where the hurt is.

Is there blood?

Did my child hit their head?

Do we need to go to the hospital?

When I know everything is all right, I pull my child close.

No blame.

No lecture.

Just:

"I love you."

Only a few words.

But I can see the body slowly soften.

The crying gets quieter.

The panic begins to fade.

When my child is calm again, I still do not say that they were wrong.

I only ask.

"I reminded you earlier, didn't I?"

My child nods.

"You still wanted to try, right?"

Another nod.

"Now you fell. What do you think, will you do it that way again next time?"

Most of the time, the answer is:

"No."

I believe one painful moment like that can be worth more than a hundred reminders.

Not because I want my child to get hurt.

But because some lessons can only be taught by experience.

Adults are the same.

If listening to other people were enough, maybe we would not have made so many mistakes.

Some things have to be lived through.

After some falls, we have to get back up by ourselves.

And adults are still learning every day too.

So I no longer hope my child will do everything right.

My child is a child.

Children are allowed to be wrong.

Allowed to try.

Allowed to be curious.

Allowed to stumble.

If everything were done correctly from the beginning, my child would already be an adult.

What I want to learn is not how to keep my child from ever falling.

It is how to stay calm when my child falls.

So my child knows that wherever life hurts, there will always be a pair of arms peaceful enough to return to.

Maybe that is what will stay the longest.

Not the sentence "I told you so."

But the feeling:

"When I was most afraid, Mom still held me."