As a grown man, I don’t cry much.
But I did today.
You see, last year, I started a daily mantra with my son.
He was 4, turning 5, and was terrified of starting preschool.
On his first day, we had to carry him in. His hands were like vice grips clinging to my t-shirt, and both of my shoulders were soaked from his tears.
“Today, I’m gonna be kind, curious, and courageous”.
We said it together every morning. I wanted to teach him courage. It helped, I think. But how could I really know?
The more we do something that scares us, the less scary it becomes.
Of course, there are exceptions. I’ll never get used to cliff diving, and I’ve done a few. Each time I try to prove something to myself. Each time proving I could soil my pants on demand. But I digress.
How could I know if my little boy was braving his fears or simply finding comfort through repetition?
Today, a year later, I knew. It was his first day at Kindergarten. We approached the school in our car, and I looked back at him in his car seat. His eyes were welled up with tears.
“Hey look at me”, I said. “Today, I’m gonna be kind, curious, and courageous. Remember?” I asked, nodding my head. Searching for him to return my nod, but he didn’t. He said nothing.
When we got out of the car, he wanted me to carry him. So I did. Was he crying? Yup.
When we got to the door, I knelt down, looked at him, and repeated our mantra. Still nothing.
He just looked at me through his teary eyes, then fell into my chest, clinging to my shoulders like vice grips. He held me tighter than before.
But then, something new happened.
When his teacher came out to walk him in, I told him it was time to be brave. I told him it was time to let go.
And then…
He did.
He rubbed his teary, snotty face deep into my chest, into my clean black shirt, got up, turned around, and then started walking in on his own.
He didn’t let his fear stop him like before. Was he still crying as he walked? Yup.
But he was doing it. He was being brave. I was overflowing with pride – the good kind of pride. And so I cried.
Of course, it wasn’t a sobbing cry, like how a baby would. But it was deep and something I couldn’t help. I forgot what that felt like. I felt alive and grateful for it.
So what’s the lesson here?
Find your courage. Let go. Wipe off the tears and snot. And walk through that door.
Make the leap.
If a 6-year-old can face his fears, so can we.
About Jeff
Hi, I’m Jeff Klopfenstein, author, engineer, coach & mentor, husband, and father. I’m building a community of confident creators and self-aware leaders. Alone, we limit ourselves. Surrounded by the right people, we think bigger and build fuller lives.