Children carry a quiet innocence—soft, unfiltered, untouched by the world. As parents, we orbit around that innocence, shielding it, shaping it, filling their days with love and routine. We know they’ll grow up. We know the world eventually gets its turn. But we forget how small those first shifts can be.
For me, it was an ear-piercing appointment.
She took a deep breath.
A tiny poke.
One shiny stud.
And suddenly, the air felt different.
She was still my girl, still wide-eyed, and still reaching for my hand. But when she hopped off the table, something settled in my chest: this was the first time the world took a piece of her. A harmless, exciting rite of passage, yet a reminder that she is slowly stepping out of my orbit and into her own.
Because that’s how it happens. Isn’t it?
Not in big dramatic moments, but in a thousand tiny ones. A pierced ear. A first crush. A hard lesson on the playground. A friend who disappoints them. A teacher who inspires them. A win. A loss. A heartbreak we can’t prevent. A joy we didn’t create.
The world seeps in slowly, shaping them in ways we can’t always control.
Sometimes it softens them. Sometimes it hardens them. Sometimes it changes them in ways that make us ache with nostalgia for who they were yesterday. And sometimes, like with my girl, it plants courage in their bones, empathy in their hearts, and resilience in their spirit. Witnessing that transformation is both a privilege and a gentle reminder that parenting, at its core, is a dance between holding on and letting go.
That ear-piercing was my reminder.
I miss the innocence (and yes, her hole-free ears) already. But I’m learning that letting go is part of the process, and there’s beauty in meeting each new version of who she’s becoming.
So love them fiercely. Guide them well. And when the time comes, trust that we planted roots deep enough to hold them, and then loosen your grip so they can rise and bloom in ways we can only imagine.
