Do Most Parents Fix Their Kids’ Small Problems For Them? What I Learned
Last Saturday, I was spread out on a picnic blanket at the neighborhood park, half-eating a granola bar and half scrolling through school permission slip emails, when my 8-year-old Leo’s ramp of scrap 2x4s went tumbling. Another kid on a bike had swerved to miss a dog and crashed right into the side. I was on my feet before Leo even pushed himself up off the dirt. By the time he blinked the dust out of his eyes, I’d already apologized to the other kid, stacked the wood back into place, and hammered the wobbly leg tight with the rock we’d been using as a hammer. Leo shrugged, kicked the base once, pulled out his handheld game, and sat on the bench next to me. He never even got back on his scooter to test it.
My friend Sarah, who teaches first grade at Leo’s school, was sitting next to me sipping seltzer. She nodded at Leo and said, “I see that all the time. You fixed that before he even had a chance to be frustrated or try to fix it himself. Is that something you do a lot? Do all parents do that, anyway?”
That question stuck with me all week. I started paying attention, to myself and to other parents around me. At school pick up last Monday, I watched a mom reach into her 6-year-old’s backpack and yank out the kid’s lunch box before the kid could even get the zipper pulled. At soccer practice Tuesday, another dad untangled his kid’s cleat laces while the kid stood there scrolling a watch. When I asked three of my closest mom friends in our group chat if they stepped in to fix small problems before their kids even asked, all three texted back something along the lines of “Constantly. It’s faster than waiting for them to figure it out, and I don’t like seeing them upset.”
So yeah, it turns out it’s extremely common. Most of us aren’t doing it because we think our kids can’t do it. We’re doing it because we have 17 things on our to-do list before bedtime, and standing around waiting for a 7-year-old to negotiate a turn on the slide or get a Lego brick clicked into place feels like a waste of time we don’t have. We do it because when our kid’s lip starts to quiver after their craft project falls apart, our first instinct is to make the bad feeling go away, not let them sit with it.
I started making small changes after that park conversation, nothing big, just small adjustments I could fit into our messy daily routine. The first thing I tried was counting to 10 out loud in my head before I moved when Leo looks stuck. It’s such a small thing, it takes no extra effort, but it forces me to pause instead of jumping in on autopilot.
Last week, we were running two minutes late for soccer practice, and Leo was fighting with his new cleats. The laces were extra long, and he’d messed up the knot three times in a row. He threw the cleat on the floor and huffed that it was stupid and he didn’t even want to go to practice. My hand was already reaching for the cleat before I remembered to count. One, two, three… I sat back, and instead of taking it, I said, “These laces are way longer than your last pair, that’s really tricky. Do you want me to show you how I cross mine at the top to keep them out of the way, or do you want to try one more time on your own?”
He thought for a second, then said he wanted me to show him. I showed him the step, then leaned back. He messed it up twice more, got it right on the third, and held his foot up like he’d just won a national award. He was still talking about how he tied his own cleats when we got to the field. I would never have gotten that if I’d just tied them for him to save two minutes.
The other small change I made is that I don’t step into kid conflicts unless someone asks me to. Last weekend, Leo and his 6-year-old cousin were arguing over who got to use the blue shovel for digging in the backyard. I was inside washing dishes, and I could hear them going back and forth. Before, I would have dried my hands and marched out there to split the difference, make them take turns. This time I just paused at the window and watched. After two minutes of arguing, Leo suggested they dig a hole together, one on each side, and share the shovel. They did that for 45 minutes. No yelling, no tears, no me needed.
It’s not that stepping in is always bad. If a kid is getting hurt, or they’ve been trying for 20 minutes and they’re still miserable, obviously you help. But the default for so many of us is to fix first, ask questions later, and that’s the part that doesn’t help them build the skills they need later. The practical part I’ve learned is that you don’t have to overhaul your whole routine to change this. Just the 10 second pause, just asking them if they want help or want to try first, is enough. If they want help, you don’t have to fix the whole thing for them—you can just show one step and step back.
I still mess up all the time. Last night, Leo was trying to open a jar of pickles for dinner, and I reached for it before I even remembered the 10 second rule. He pulled it back from me and said, “Mom, I got it.” He twisted and twisted, ran the lid under hot water, twisted again, and got it open. He beamed, and I just laughed.
It’s a common thing, what we do—fixing their problems before they can try. It doesn’t make you a bad parent. It just makes you a tired parent with a lot going on. I’m still getting the hang of pausing. Some days, when I’m really pressed for time, I still just fix it. But the small moments I get to watch him figure it out on his own? They make the extra 5 minutes of waiting worth it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it right every time, but I’m getting better one 10 second pause at a time.
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