When children say, “I can’t do it myself,”
we often hear something else.
From an adult’s point of view, the task usually looks simple.
So simple that it’s easy to assume the problem is fear, or laziness, or a lack of effort.
But over time, I’ve realized that this moment has very little to do with difficulty.
It has more to do with uncertainty.
What feels easy to us is unfamiliar to them.
What feels obvious to us is something they are seeing for the first time.
And when you are small, there are a lot of first times.
I’ve learned that forcing rarely helps in these moments.
Blaming doesn’t either.
Even encouragement, when it’s just words, often misses the point.
Telling a child, “You can do it,” doesn’t always address what they’re actually feeling.
Uncertainty doesn’t disappear because it’s challenged.
It disappears when it’s understood.
So I try to start somewhere else.
Before I say anything, I remind myself to believe — genuinely — that they can do it.
Not as a lesson.
Not as motivation.
But as something I feel deeply.
Then I try to put myself in their place.
I talk about moments when I felt unsure.
Times when something felt difficult even though it looked simple from the outside.
I tell them how it felt before I tried, and how it felt after I finished.
Not to prove a point.
Just to let them know that uncertainty is familiar, and temporary.
Sometimes I demonstrate once.
Slowly.
Without making it look effortless.
I let them see that even for me, it takes attention.
That there are small adjustments.
That it isn’t magic.
Making things look too easy doesn’t help.
It only widens the distance between what they feel and what they see.
After that, I step back.
I don’t finish it for them.
I don’t rush them.
I let them complete it in their own way, at their own pace.
There are many moments like this.
Too many firsts to count.
And each one is a small challenge — not because the task is hard, but because the experience is new.
I’ve come to see “I can’t do it” not as resistance, but as part of how confidence is built.
Each time they face uncertainty and move through it, something accumulates quietly.
Not courage.
Not boldness.
Just the knowledge that the next uncertainty can also be faced.
That’s how confidence grows — one unfamiliar moment at a time.
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