The Early Years: Challenging Their ‘I Can’t’ Moments

Written by: Ashika Morasiewicz
Filed under: Thoughts, Early Years Parenting

Hi, it’s been a minute. It seems I only write when the stars align—or when my kid drops a philosophical bomb that’s too good not to share.

Our daughter, N, has transformed into a bright-eyed preschooler who’s running full tilt into life. Our first Spring Break has come and gone faster than a toddler’s attention span. We kept it low-key with a staycation and soaked up as much outdoor time as possible.

On day one, we revisited a local playground we hadn’t seen in ages. N, in her element, rediscovered the area with a huge smile on her face. It was like watching her reunite with an old friend. She tackled the spring rider with the kind of spirit only a preschooler can muster—half fearless, half unsure. When it was time to dismount, she hit a snag—her feet dangled shy of the ground. She reached out a tiny hand and said, “help”. Ryan and I cheered her on, “You’re so close, you can do it!” Then came a whisper, “I can’t, I’m stuck.”

And there it was – the I can’t.

It was her first-time admission of self-doubt. It left Ryan and me exchanging concerned glances, treading new parental ground. We gave her a hand and helped her back to solid ground. We’re no strangers to her asking for help, but hearing her use these words felt like uncharted territory. Part of me was mentally high-fiving her because she tried it on her own. The other part? Baffled by the sudden appearance of this self-imposed limit. Where had this come from?

And here’s the kicker—why did those two little words bother me so much?

Maybe it’s because she’s at that magical age where ‘can’t’ shouldn’t be in her vocabulary. It should be as absent as straight lines in nature. The world should be her playground—no limits, no bounds. Sure, there are a lot of things she can’t do–yet. But through her eyes, shouldn’t everything feel within reach? Now, faced with her first “I can’t,” it felt like we were witnessing a mini existential crisis unfold in someone who still needs a boost to wash her hands.

Throughout our break, the ‘I can’t’ saga continued, each one challenging my perception more than the last. Initially, the words stung, but the discomfort faded quicker with each reoccurrence. Eventually, they became less of an alarm and more of a challenge – like the universe tossing me a wink and whispering, “Here’s your cue, coach.”

Realizing the impact of “I can’t,” we equipped her with affirmations like “try again,” “yes you can,” and the timeless “you’re almost there.” As for N’s recognition of her own limits? That’s just her leveling up. It’s her digging into the gritty realities of growing up and stretching into her full potential.

This experience made me rethink my role as a parent. We’re not just here to hover and handhold. It’s our deeper responsibility to help her navigate her doubts and fears, confronting not only her challenges but also our own. This journey has highlighted that I’m not just here to shield her from the rough patches, but to prepare her to confidently face the world. Although I’ve always seen her as an unstoppable force, her moments of doubt revealed that our true challenge lies in supporting her through her perceived limitations. Our mission is to guide our little trailblazers through life’s complex terrain, teaching them to see each ‘I can’t’ as just a bend in the path, not the end of the trail.

Weeks have passed since N first showed self-doubt. Now, each “I can’t” is an invitation to take the scenic route while still keeping her on track. We’re not just soothing little fears; we’re fostering resilience and building futures. And isn’t that the whole point? To witness those small victories that feel as grand as summiting a big mountain, because, let’s face it, to them, they are.