Cue the Light bulb!

Sometimes protection stands in the way of growth:

"It's a scary door," my two-year-old son said as he entered our room at 4 a.m.

"Oh? What's scary about your door?" His father asked him as he laid him in bed between us.

"There's no light."

"Oh," my husband and I said in unison.

"There's no light in the hallway so you didn't want to leave your room," my husband said.

"Yeah, it's dark in there," my son said as he turned to me and wrapped his arm around my neck.

"Hey," I said, "you know what we could do? We could put another night light in the hallway for you and that way it won't be so dark."

The moment I finished the sentence I realized what i had said. I had attempted to fix something that wasn't broken.

"Sweetie," I began my attempt to turn things around, "I admire your courage. You came out of your room and down the hall even though it was dark and you were afraid."

"That's right, that took a lot of courage," my husband added. "I am very proud of you."

"ZZZZzzzzzzzz ZZZZzzzzzzzz." He was asleep.

Our son may not have picked up on the subtle message I had sent him, but I sure did. I subtly sent the message that he couldn't handle the dark so I would fix it for him.

The question is can I handle the dark?

I have a hope that my son will not be afraid and I want to realize that hope. The short path is to take away the darkness. Unfortunately, I would have also removed an opportunity for him to develop the virtue of courage.

I am grateful that I tuned in to my son: I realized the courage it took for him to leave the comfort of his dimly-lit room and set his feet pitter-pattering through the dark hall to our room. By stroking his courage, we named it and rewarded him for it.

And what courage of mine: to trust that the more I see, acknowledge, and celebrate these virtues within him, the more they will grow. Trusting our children's very potential -- and letting go as they own their capacities-- can be the hardest part of parenting.

Yes, cue the light bulb, he can make his way through the darkness, and I don't have to close my eyes as he does. I can watch him, see him, and applaud his every step toward autonomy.