From being hesitant in sending her kids to “Nana Camp” to watching young climbers find their own way in Joshua Tree, our writer learns that stepping back is sometimes
the greatest lesson in raising capable, confident kids!
It was a few years back when we finally let our kids go to “Nana Camp.” Nana Camp is a magical place where cousins roam free, memories grow wild, and Aunt Linda reigns supreme. It’s two glorious weeks that span from Santa Rosa to California’s Lost Coast, and every kid in our family lives for it.
Every kid in our family…except ours…for a while.
You see, for years, my husband and I hesitated. Like so many parents, we didn’t grow up near extended family. We were used to managing everything ourselves. Add in the fact that our firstborn had medical issues from birth, and you can understand our hesitation. Fear, love, and a deep desire to protect kept us from saying yes to something we knew, deep down, would be good for them.
Aunt Linda—patient, loving, and wise—was ready. She’s the kind of person every family should have: part teacher, part counselor, part magician. Nana Camp welcomes a dozen cousins, and over the years, the ages have ranged from seven to seventeen. There’s only one real rule: “What happens at Nana Camp stays at Nana Camp.”
The kids thrive. The memories are gold. The lessons? They are not just for the kids as they navigate social dynamics. I would argue the lessons were mainly for the grown-ups.
When we finally dropped them off, my husband obsessed over their food intake. I worried about the social dynamics. Aunt Linda listened, reassured, and smiled knowingly. I remember we sent our first “Is everything okay?” text about 24 hours in…and got no reply. Another 24 hours passed and we escalated to a “proof of life” text. What did she send us? A picture of herself grinning! I can tell you this threw my husband into a mini-meltdown of his own!
I still laugh thinking about it. That is classic Auntie. She knew what we needed most was to be reminded that our kids were safe. They were learning. And they were doing it without us hovering.
THE PARENTING LESSON CAME LATER
Fast forward a few years to a road trip I took with my daughter to Joshua Tree National Park. We spent our last night at the Jumbo Rocks Campground—big, loud, and full of families.
As the sun began to set, I climbed up the rocks behind our campsite to watch the sky change.
That’s when I saw four kids—harnesses on, one carrying a rope—climbing up toward me. I called out, “Cool, you guys climbing?” The oldest, maybe ten, replied, “No, we’re just belaying.” These kids knew what they were doing! Boy, did I miss my climbing days hiking among the rock.
I glanced down at their camp, where five or so adults chatted, were cooking, or just relaxing. Not one said, “Be careful.” Not one person looked up toward the kids.
The youngest, about five, faced a gap between boulders. My heart raced. The two older boys just jumped over and looked at her and said, “You can’t jump that.” She replied, hands on hips, “I CAN too!” I held my breath, imagining all that could go wrong. I fought the urge to get up and “help,” but felt conflicted. Their parents seemed to be okay with it, and they were just 30 feet away.
Instead of jumping, she calmly walked two steps to the left, around the split. “See? I can do it this way!” she said proudly. I was stunned. These kids were competent, confident, and trusted. They didn’t need approval or direction. They’d been taught skills—and then given the freedom to use them.
LETTING GO ISN’T EASY—BUT IT’S ESSENTIAL
Watching that group of kids reminded me that independence isn’t something we give all at once. It’s built over time—in small choices, big moments, and uncomfortable silences. It’s what happens when we, as parents, step out of the way.
We don’t have to go from hands-on to hands-off overnight. But we can make small, deliberate shifts. Assigning age-appropriate chores, letting kids pack their backpacks, and encouraging them to speak up for themselves—these acts plant seeds of capability and confidence. Just like our spouses, they will probably do things differently, and that is okay. It is essential that you don’t correct them or redo the chore. This only reinforces that they are not capable, which is the opposite of what we are trying to accomplish.
At the heart of parenting is a paradox: We’re raising children to need us less. If you have not started this process, the back-to-school season is the perfect time to revisit this idea. It’s the season of lunch boxes and waking up, new teachers and growing responsibilities. It’s also a season of opportunity—an opportunity to say, “I believe in you. Try it yourself. You got this.”
FINAL THOUGHTS
As I looked down from the rocks that night in Joshua Tree, I saw my daughter relaxing at our site. A wave of love and gratitude washed over me—for her, for my aunt, for all the lessons I’ve learned by both holding on and letting go.
The truth is, we’re all figuring it out. Parenting is a mix of instinct and trial and error, of over-protecting and stepping back. But if we want our kids to believe in themselves, we have to show them we do too.
Let’s give our children the space to explore, to make mistakes, to shine in ways we never imagined. After all, the greatest gift we can give them isn’t just love—it’s trust.
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