They sit on the living room rug, constructing towers with colorful building blocks, transforming them into swords in a galaxy far, far away. A moment later, they dash to grab crayons and a notepad, crafting an elaborate treasure map that leads to the hidden gems in their closet. Soon after, they migrate to the kitchen for a cooking adventure, don costumes for dress-up, or retreat into their fort, where their imaginations concoct grand escapades just for the two of them.
I pause to observe, awestruck by their creativity and the remarkable ability to play harmoniously for what feels like an eternity without squabbling or succumbing to tears. Just seconds ago, they were clamoring for snacks, and now they are lost in their own little worlds.
As I pick up their notepad filled with doodles of our family, their favorite park, random splashes of color, and handprints, I am struck by the sight of our names. Each one is penned in the wobbly, oversized script of a young child.
When did my little one learn to form letters into words, color within the lines, be kind to friends, and leap from the bottom of the stairs? I’m overwhelmed with love and amazement for this tiny being, so I tell her, “Hey, sweetheart, I am so proud of you for being strong, brave, and working hard to learn your letters.”
But wait, is that the right thing to say? Isn’t the prevailing wisdom warning against overvaluing our kids? Aren’t we raising a generation that’s too sheltered, too pampered, and given trophies for mere participation? Should I reserve my praise for achievements rather than just for her being herself?
Yet, I don’t stop there. I tell her she is beautiful, that her body is perfect just as it is. I express my admiration for her artwork and remind her that she is important, brave, and capable of achieving anything she desires. And yes, we do emphasize effort, celebrate teamwork, and explain the hard work behind our accomplishments. We encourage perseverance and acknowledge that meltdowns are just part of the process. My kids are perfectly average, in the best possible sense.
These fleeting years are all mine, and I want to make the most of them. I strive to be the voice that resonates louder than their friends, the media, or any external influences. I seize every chance to affirm their worth, reminding them their bodies are perfect, and they are loved, brilliant, and strong.
I want them to feel completely confident in their value so that when the world whispers its doubts, they won’t even flinch. I wish for them to embrace their identities with unshakeable confidence, dismissing negativity and celebrating who they are.
There’s a profound difference between nurturing a sense of entitlement and instilling a sense of being cherished. These years are our opportunity to be their foundation— to uplift, empower, and prepare them for the world outside. And when they eventually soar and achieve what we always knew they could, we’ll say, “See, kiddo, I always believed in you.”
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In summary, while I may be accused of overvaluing my children, I see it as my duty to instill in them a deep sense of worth and resilience. These early years are critical for shaping their identities and ensuring they feel loved and accepted for who they are.