A mother's day

10 May 2025

It's 7am. I am awake in bed when I hear the familiar creak of a door followed by the expected pattering of feet. Moments later, my room door opens, and as I feign sleep, I watch as my four-year-old crawls into bed and plops himself between us. As I welcome him into my arms, the luxury of the weekend not lost on me, his first words come as a pleasant surprise.

"妈妈，明天是母亲节。"
"Mama, tomorrow is Mother's Day."

And a moment later,

"妈妈，我要买一个画本给你。"
"Mama, I want to buy a drawing book for you."

Later, as we sit at our dining table, he climbs up and sits on my lap, and as he holds me tight, he whispers a Mother's Day song into my ear. I can't make out the words beyond a 谢谢妈妈, but I am moved. This is the first time that Mother's Day actually feels significant, the first time that this occasion does mean something to my son, the first time on this occasion that he has spontaneously expressed his love and appreciation for me.

I savour the card that he made at school with its random assortment of drawings. The suns, clouds, trees, grass, flowers and snails. The ice creams, chocolates and waffles. The bananas, grapes, corn, edamame and pumpkin. The sprinkling of hearts and spirals. And the 妈妈,我♡你 he wrote.

Just five months ago, he was making rudimentary drawings and only starting to print his name. Not long after starting kindergarten here, he'd come back each day with a drawing of a bus. We watched over time as the buses evolved as he began to furnish his drawings with more details—adding windows, doors, lights, mirrors, bus numbers and staircases. He has gone on to draw aeroplanes, amongst many other things, and has recently been drawing vending machines.

I watch him as he colours, as he uses the same less-common dominant hand as me, as he colours with intent unlike the random scribblings of his younger self, and I look back on the years, marvelling at how far he's come, at how far we've come.

And though I've enjoyed every age and stage so far, I'm very pleased with the person my son is today. He has always been happy, carefree, sweet, affectionate and teachable. Our days are largely pleasant, now that the frustrations and tantrums of the twos and threes are over. Today, my four-year-old is independent, adventurous, polite, kind, respectful, considerate, forgiving, content, obedient and teachable. He's not perfect, but I see the mark of these qualities in him. And I am thankful for how he has turned out, because we are for sure not perfect parents, and it is comforting to know that despite our missteps, we have done right by him. And all I hope is that we will continue to learn to parent him right, even as we journey on in the years ahead.

Because parenting is tricky, and I don't always have the answers. Yet I can't help but disagree with a lot of the parenting I've been witnessing. I know that everyone has their limitations, and one's background and values play a big part in how one chooses to parent. But whenever I feel dismay at the practices I see, it is because I care deeply about how children are raised, and I care deeply about the adults of tomorrow that they will soon become.¹

I have seen all too often children (even children past the age of six) sitting down at mealtimes with a phone propped on a stand, eyes glued to the screen as an adult spoons food into their mouth. I have seen phones affixed on strollers as babies and toddlers are ferried about, even young children with phones in their hands as they ride in the back of bicycles. I have seen and heard all too often about the 1–2 hours of screen time that so many young children are exposed to. I have witnessed with internal alarm as a two-year-old watched a Disney movie, and I was told by her parents casually that she had watched this movie many times over.² And I have, on the evenings that I pass a certain unit on my way home, always been assaulted by the intense glare and all-too-sharp pixels of Cocomelon on loop on a large-screen TV, the daily backdrop and hum of a toddler just beginning to walk. I had an epiphany one day about the ubiquitous screen (at least where I live)—it is the modern-day pacifier. Shove it in their faces, and it keeps your children quiet and you unbothered—it's sobering.

Another thing I've been bothered about is this way of parenting that I have increasingly observed among young and well-educated parents these days. These well-meaning parents desire to treat their children with respect (which is admirable and to which I agree), but in doing so, they give their children so much agency that they never feel a need to stick within the boundaries that are supposedly set for them. Kids are so smart. And once they realise that they are the boss, good luck to you—they will step all over your heads—because children, as you can expect, don't make very good bosses. They make very bad bosses, in fact, entitled and demanding.

For a while, I wondered if I was the one doing it wrong. What if I was the one that was being too controlling? What if I was the one that was training my child to be a robot—to obey simply because he had to? What if he was losing out on something else that was equally important (like critical thinking, maybe) in my quest for what I found essential?

But more and more, I am convinced by the fruit I see—both good and bad. I know that I do not teach blind obedience. But I do teach choices and consequences. And I do teach limits to choices that children can make, and sometimes it really comes down to this. You just have to do something because I say so, because this is an instruction, not a request, because you are still a child under my care, and this is what I need you to do so that I can take good care of you. Because children thrive when they are granted freedom within limits. And it is the same for everyone else. There is no real freedom without boundaries.

The thoughts swirl in my head today thanks to the half-day off that I was kindly granted in lieu of Mother's Day tomorrow.³ I savour these rare moments of time alone, devoid of the refrain of Mama punctuating my thoughts and moments. It is a good time for a pause, a good time for stillness, and a good time to remember and be grateful for the blessing that I have in my own—

妈妈.