When I lived in the United States, I was a helicopter mom. At the park, I followed my preschooler like a linebacker, ready to catch him if he fell. If I lost sight of him, I'd panic. That changed six years ago when my family moved to Barcelona. My son's friends were climbing a tree.
Naturally, my thenyear-old joined in. Once he reached the top, the local parents started clapping. But they weren't clapping for my kid. They were clapping for me. For once, I hadn't intervened. I let my kid be a kid.
This hands-off parenting has endured. Today, my year-old son picks up groceries , plays in the park, and commutes 30 minutes from school β all without adult supervision. But this shift didn't happen overnight. Spain's social climate and infrastructure provided us the opportunities to grow. Restaurants here often have playgrounds or open squares nearby, with outdoor seating so parents can socialize while their kids play.
When an American friend asked who watches the kids, I joked, "They run feral. In Spain, I don't ask: "Where's my kid? If my son gets hurt, another child will run and find me. Otherwise, the kids sort issues out by themselves while we sip wine. Schools here encourage independence early with annual multi-day rural trips for students starting at ages 5 or 6. When my son first went, I was nervous β who would remind him to pee or comfort him at night? I over-prepared, packing labeled outfits, only to find he wore the same clothes for three days.
Did he reek? Did he survive? Also yes. To be sure, this independence hasn't turned my son into an angel. He still complains when we ask him to set the table and would happily choose his iPad over park time, but independent actions give him a sense of agency.
