I’ll never forget the day my three-year-old daughter taught me one of the most important parenting lessons I’ve ever learned.
We were visiting Ek Phnom Temple in Battambang, Cambodia. It was a hot Sunday afternoon, and my wife and I were walking around the ancient ruins with our little girl. She was wearing her favorite colorful leggings, and everything seemed peaceful until she spotted something that changed everything.
A rock.
To me, it looked like a dirty, dusty stone sitting under a tree. Nothing special. But to my daughter, it might as well have been Mount Everest. And she decided, right then and there, that she was going to climb it.
When Parents Say “No” (And Why We Do It)
My first reaction was automatic: “No.”
I looked at that rock and saw all the reasons she shouldn’t climb it. It was covered in dirt. It looked too big for her tiny three-year-old legs. What if she fell? What if she got hurt?
“It’s too dirty,” I told her firmly. “It’s too high. Let’s keep walking.”
I thought I was being a good parent. I thought I was protecting her.
But here’s the thing about toddlers—they don’t always listen to logic. And sometimes, that’s exactly what they need.
Letting Kids Fail: What Happened When I Stepped Back
My daughter completely ignored me. She walked right up to that rock and tried to climb it.
She failed.
She tried again, her little arms straining as she tried to pull herself up.
She failed again.
Every part of me wanted to scoop her up and carry her away. I wanted to save her from the frustration, from the dirty hands, from the struggle. But something made me stop. Maybe it was the determined look on her face. Maybe it was my wife’s knowing glance that said, “Let her try.”
So I stood back and watched.
On her third attempt, with just a tiny bit of help from my wife (who steadied her for a second), my daughter scrambled up the side of the rock. She got her knee on the ledge, pulled with all her strength, and made it to the top.
She sat down, brushed the dust off her leggings, and looked straight at me.
And that’s when she taught me everything I needed to know about how to build confidence in children.
The Message in Her Eyes (And Her Pointed Finger)
Once she was sitting on top of that rock, my daughter held up five fingers. To anyone else, it might have looked like she was just waving. But I knew what she meant.
She was showing me freedom. The freedom to try. The freedom to fail twice and still make it to the top.
Then she pointed her finger directly at me.
It wasn’t a cute pose. It was a message: “Dad, don’t underestimate me just because I’m small.”
At that moment, I realized something crucial. She didn’t see a dirty rock. She saw a challenge. And by trying to stop her, I wasn’t protecting her from danger—I was protecting her from growth.
Why Letting Kids Fail Is Important for Building Resilience
That afternoon at the temple taught me what research has been telling parents for years: children need to struggle sometimes.
When we rush in to rescue our kids from every difficult situation, we accidentally send them a message: “I don’t think you can do this.” We mean well. We want to protect them. But what we’re actually doing is preventing them from discovering their own strength.
What Happens When Kids Face Challenges
When children encounter obstacles and work through them on their own, several important things happen:
- They learn problem-solving. My daughter didn’t give up after the first failure. She adjusted her approach and tried again. That’s a life skill that no amount of parental instruction can replace.
- They build real confidence. Confidence doesn’t come from being told you’re capable. It comes from actually doing hard things and succeeding. When my daughter climbed that rock by herself, she proved something to herself, not to me.
- They develop a growth mindset. Kids who are allowed to struggle learn that failure isn’t the end of the story. It’s just part of the process. They learn that “I can’t do it yet” is different from “I can’t do it ever.”
- They become more resilient. Resilience isn’t something we’re born with. It’s built through experience—specifically, through facing difficulties and coming out the other side.
How to Let Your Child Struggle Without Rescuing Them
I know what you’re thinking: “But how do I know when to step in and when to step back?”
It’s one of the hardest questions in parenting. Here’s what I’ve learned from that day and many experiences since then.
1. Ask Yourself: Is This Actually Dangerous?
The rock my daughter wanted to climb was only knee-high to me. If she fell, the worst that would happen was a scraped knee or some tears. That’s manageable.
Before you say “no,” take a moment to assess the real risk. Is your child in actual danger, or are you just uncomfortable with the mess, the effort, or the possibility of failure?
2. Give Them Space to Try
Sometimes the best thing we can do is simply step back and watch. Let them attempt the challenge. You can stay close by in case they truly need help, but resist the urge to jump in at the first sign of struggle.
When we give kids space to work through problems, we’re telling them: “I believe you can figure this out.”
3. Offer Help, Don’t Take Over
Notice that my wife didn’t climb the rock for my daughter. She just steadied her for one second—enough support to keep her safe, but not enough to do the work for her.
That’s the sweet spot. Be available. Be encouraging. But let your child be the one who achieves the goal.
4. Celebrate the Effort, Not Just the Success
Whether your child succeeds or fails, acknowledge the bravery it took to try. “You worked so hard on that” means more than “You’re so smart” or “You’re the best.”
When we praise effort over outcome, we help kids develop a growth mindset that will serve them their entire lives.
A Parenting Lesson from Traveling with Kids
Travel has given me countless opportunities to practice stepping back and letting my daughter explore, struggle, and grow. There’s something about being in a new place that makes both parents and kids more willing to take risks.
That day at Ek Phnom Temple, surrounded by ancient stones and Cambodian sunshine, I learned that raising resilient kids means getting comfortable with being uncomfortable.
Yes, my daughter got dirty. Her leggings were covered in dust. Her hands needed washing. But she also got something far more valuable: she got confidence. Real, earned, unshakeable confidence.
If I had forced her to walk away from that rock, she would have stayed clean. But she wouldn’t have grown.
The Best Feeling a Father Can Have
Looking back at the photos from that day, I see a three-year-old girl pointing her finger at me with absolute certainty in her eyes. She’s eight now, and she still has that same determination.
And you know what? Being “wrong” that day was the best feeling I’ve ever had as a father.
Because I didn’t protect her from effort. I let her discover what she was capable of. And she reminded me that our job as parents isn’t to prevent our children from facing challenges—it’s to believe in them while they face those challenges.
So the next time your child wants to climb the metaphorical (or literal) rock, take a breath. Assess the real danger. And if it’s safe enough, step back.
Let them try. Let them fail. Let them try again.
You might be surprised by what they can do when you simply believe they can do it.
Final Thoughts: Raise Resilient Kids by Letting Go
How to build confidence in children isn’t about praise or protection. It’s about presence and patience. It’s about creating safe spaces where they can take risks, make mistakes, and discover their own strength.
Why letting kids fail is important isn’t immediately obvious when you’re watching your toddler struggle with something that seems impossible. But years later, you’ll see the fruits of those small moments of struggle—kids who believe in themselves, who aren’t afraid of challenges, and who know that failure is just part of learning.
That dusty rock under a tree in Cambodia? It was never about the rock at all.
It was about learning to let go, trust the process, and watch my daughter become exactly who she was meant to be—one small, determined climb at a time.
