There are moments in parenting that pass so quietly you almost miss them — a glance, a question, a choice made when no one was watching. BUT if you’re lucky and if you’re paying attention, you start to see something extraordinary take shape: a child slowly stepping into their own light and with it, the faint but unmistakable outline of a leader.
I am seeing these little moment more often in my oldest. He finished his Kindergarten school year this week and every day this kid never fails to amaze me in some way shape or form. Most recently a game with his little sister had turned chaotic, as it normally does. She was getting visibly frustrated, her voice rising like a wave. But there stood Tanner, finding the words that calmed and reassured. He didn’t boss, he didn’t push. He led.
As parents, we often wonder what kind of adult our child will become. I always want my children to do and be better than myself and my husband. As parents, we often ask ourselves, “Are we doing enough?” Then there are days, rare and beautiful, when we realize they are already becoming. Not in some distant future, but right now, in the quiet decisions they make, the kindness they show, the strength they carry on small shoulders and in big hearts.
Leadership, we often think, is about titles, stages or microphones. I’ve learned it starts much earlier, in the backyard when they help a nervous sibling find courage playing a new game. At the ballpark, when they cheer on friends as they head up to bat. In the living room, when they challenge unfairness and even in a car ride to school when they ask extremely inquisitive questions with answers we think may be beyond their comprehension.
We often prepare our children for the world. But watching mine, I’ve begun to believe, in turn, they are actually preparing the world for something better.
We don’t always know where their path will lead. But, when I look at my child, I see not just the echoes of who he is becoming, I see a leader in the making. One built not from dominance, but from grace. Not from shouting, but from listening. Not from command, but from compassion. So, I watch. I marvel. I learn. Because sometimes, the most powerful leaders come in small shoes, with scraped knees and wide eyes, teaching us every day, what it really means to lead.