“Hey, does anyone want to go down to the creek?” I asked my kids, who were sprinting across the sprawling playground equipment at a local park.

“No, we’re racing,” my older son replied.

“Well, I want to go down to the creek,” I said, with a hint of whine in my voice.

“You can,” he stated, plain as day.

“That’s true, I can!” The fact that they could play on their own, that they were big enough not to be constantly supervised and could come get me if there was a problem popped into my head like a cartoon lightbulb.

I wandered down the steep, grassy hill to the little stream that flows through the park. I stood on the tree roots along the bank, watching the water wind its way over rocks, making miniature waterfalls. Squirrels dashed back and forth among the spring flowers and green shoots. Birds called out to each other above me. I just stood and watched, making myself aware of the world around me instead of my attention focused on the kids.

A few minutes later, my husband – who had gone to get ice cream across the street – found me. Hilariously, my younger son said, “She’s at the stream, the one in the blue shirt.” (As if he wouldn’t recognize me!) We just stood there, together for a bit before my younger son ran up and hugged me. It was time to go back to a supervisory role, but I felt like a teeny bit of weight had been lifted from my shoulders. My kids would be okay without me.

A few weeks later, buoyed by this memory, I allowed them to stay at the park across the street for about a half-hour by themselves. They’re both older in age than the first time I went to the park without my parents and our park is much closer. (I came home from that ill-fated trip with a fang of a tooth due to a merry-go-round mishap, but I survived.) Just as I was about to go get them, they wandered back across the street into our yard. No harm done – and in fact, a lot of good done.

Every little additional bit of independence, every opportunity to let them do things on their own is me showing them that I trust them and them showing me that they are worthy of that trust. It doesn’t mean I won’t worry – of course I’ll worry a bit – but every time they come home safe reinforces my confidence. It shows the lessons I taught are paying off. The responsibility I tried to instill did sink in. It also reinforces their confidence in themselves – knowing that they can do these things, that they can solve problems and take care of themselves. Knowing that they can take care of themselves more than ever before is part of growing up – for both me and them alike.