7-Year-Old Niece Confidence Activities I Tried That Didn’t Suck (Mostly)
I’ve got my 7-year-old niece Lila every other weekend, ever since my sister started that new 12-hour shift nursing job. Lila’s always been the kind of kid who tucks her chin into her chest and hides behind my leg when the barista says hi. My mom keeps texting me links to those “10 Confidence-Building Activities For Shy Kids” articles, so I figured I’d give some stuff a go, just to see what sticks. Most of the planned stuff sucked, honestly. But a few random unplanned things actually worked, so I figured I’d write this down for anyone else who’s fumbling through this like I am.
First up, I tried the at-home talent show I saw recommended everywhere. I bought construction paper and glitter glue, made a lopsided gold “1st Place” trophy, asked my roommate Jake to sit on the couch and clap like a good audience. Lila just stood in front of us, twisting the hem of her faded rainbow unicorn shirt, and wouldn’t say a word. I kept prompting her—“remember that cartwheel you nailed at the park last week? You can do that!” or “sing that We Don’t Talk About Bruno song you scream in the car!” She just sat down cross-legged on the floor and stared at her scuffed rain boots (she wears rain boots even when it’s 80 degrees out, don’t ask). Jake ended up eating all the gummy bear snacks I made for intermission, and I felt like an idiot. The crumpled glittery paper trophy is still in my closet, actually, and I still find glitter on the couch cushions two months later.
I packed up all my “planned confidence” nonsense that day and figured we’d just do our usual: order pizza, rewatch Turning Red, and color on my old notebook. But then a week later, something random happened that made me rethink everything. I had a new sweater that was way too big, needed to return it at Target. We’d grabbed blue raspberry slushies on the way in, and my hands were full of the slushies and my overstuffed purse, so I just handed Lila the receipt and the sweater bag and said “hey, can you go tell the lady at customer service I need to return this? My hands are gonna drop these before we even get to the car.”
She hesitated, looked up at me, and I almost took it back. But I just shrugged and said “it’s okay if you don’t want to, but I think you can do it.” She walked over, and I hung back by the chip aisle pretending to look at Doritos. First she mumbled, the lady leaned in and said “sorry, honey, what was that?” I almost walked over to rescue her, but I stopped. Lila took a big breath and said it louder: “We need to return this sweater, it’s too big for my aunt.” The lady gave her the receipt back with the refund, and Lila came bouncing back to me, grinning so big her dimples popped out. She wouldn’t stop talking about it the whole drive home. That’s when I realized: no one needs a fancy talent show. Confidence isn’t about performing for other people. It’s just small stuff, that she does on her own time.
Another thing that stuck: my neighbor gave me a tiny plot in the community garden down the street when she moved, and I don’t even like gardening, but I gave Lila her own 2×2 corner and told her she could plant whatever she wanted. She said she wanted to plant gummy bears, because her friend told her if you plant gummy bears they grow into gummy bear trees. I didn’t tell her it was a dumb joke. I just gave her a little plastic trowel, helped her dig six little holes, she put one gummy bear in each and covered them up. I also snuck a few marigold seeds in next to them, because I had an old half-opened packet in my junk drawer I forgot about.
Now every time she comes over, the first thing we do is walk down to the garden to check. Last week, the marigolds sprouted, little fuzzy green shoots pushing through the dirt. Lila was so excited she ran over to the retired teacher who gardens the plot next to ours and dragged her over to show her “my gummy bear trees are growing!” The old lady played along, said she couldn’t wait to come back for harvest. Lila was so proud, she even told the cashier at the gas station on the way home about it, unprompted. I never would’ve planned that. I never would’ve thought letting a 7-year-old plant candy in the dirt would be a confidence activity.
I did try that laminated “one brave thing a day” sticker chart once, too. Total flop. First brave thing was ask the librarian for the new Dog Man book. We got to the desk, Lila hid behind my leg, started sniffling because a little boy ran past and bumped her shoulder. I just folded the stupid chart up, stuffed it in my bag, and we got ice cream instead. I felt guilty for like an hour, like I pushed her too hard. But then that night, she dug through my sock drawer to make sock puppets, and when Jake came out to get a drink, she made her puppet step forward and introduce itself to him. When it’s her idea, it’s fine. When I turn it into a project with stickers and rules, it’s terrible.
I still don’t know what I’m doing, honestly. Last weekend at the diner, she wouldn’t order her own chocolate chip pancakes, even when I asked. We just ordered together, that’s fine. Some days she’s bold enough to return sweaters and show strangers her gummy bear trees, some days she wants to hide behind my leg. I used to think confidence building was about pushing her out of her comfort zone and getting her to talk to everyone, but now I think it’s just about letting her do her own stuff, even if it’s messy. Even if the chocolate chip cookies are three times too salty (we made those last month, fed them to the stray cat behind my apartment, she just laughed and said next time we’ll get it right). Even if her gummy bear trees are just marigolds. It’s not a checklist. It’s just letting her figure out that she can do things when she wants to. The crumpled glitter trophy’s still in my closet, by the way. Maybe one day she’ll want to use it. Probably not. That’s okay too.
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