There was a time when I said no a lot. No to wearing costumes to dinner. No to bringing noisy trucks out in public. No to singing loudly in quiet spaces. Not because it was dangerous. Not because it was inappropriate. But because it wasn’t socially acceptable. Because I was scared of judgement.
I was sitting across from a friend over coffee, venting about one of those classic power struggles with my toddler. I don’t even remember what it was about. Probably something small that felt massive in the moment. I told her what happened. How I said no. How he pushed. How I held the line. And she just said, “But… why didn’t you just let him?”
And I didn’t have an answer. Other than… because.
It hit me like a truck. I wasn’t saying no for him. I was saying no for me. Because I didn’t want to stand out. Because I didn’t want to be seen as the mum who couldn’t control her kid. Because I didn’t want strangers to think I was a pushover.
It was never really about him bringing a noisy truck or eating without cutlery or wearing a firefighter costume to a café. It was about me fearing the silent judgement of the people around me. I realised I had been shrinking him — and myself — to fit into what I thought was expected of a “good parent.”
One night, deep in the trenches of the two-year sleep regression, we were both wrecked. He was refusing naps. Partying at midnight. I had zero energy to negotiate an outfit change before dinner. We were seeing close family — safe people. And he was obsessed with wearing his firefighter costume.
So I let him.
I tossed a jacket in the bag, and we went. And do you know what happened?
He was a perfect toddler. Happy. Confident. Glowing. He ate his dinner in his fire gear, got a few crumbs on his tulle, sang a song between bites, and smiled like he owned the room. And the comments? Not one person gave me a side-eye. It was all, “He looks so happy.” “How lucky he is to have a mum who lets him be himself.”
And in that moment, I realised: letting go isn’t giving up control. It’s giving them space to show you who they are.
From that moment, I’ve leaned hard into the “f*** around and find out” parenting approach (age-appropriately, of course). I’ve watched him beam with pride when he gets to make his own choices. I’ve watched him surprise me — like the night at dinner — with how much more settled and calm he is when he feels seen.
Supporting toddler autonomy means:
Letting them wear what they want (even if it’s a costume)
Letting them bring comfort items out in public
Giving them a voice in small, safe decisions
Observing instead of overcorrecting
I still have boundaries. I’m still parenting. But I’m not policing harmless expressions just because someone at table five might raise an eyebrow.
Here’s my advice, from one exhausted, recovering control-freak mum to another:
Unless it’s going to cause actual, life-altering damage — let them. Not everything needs to be a battle. Not everything needs to be corrected. Sometimes, the magic happens when you step back.
The more we support toddler autonomy, the more we empower them to be confident, capable, emotionally attuned little humans.
To the me who said no out of fear: You weren’t wrong. You were trying your best.
But by stepping back and letting them lead, you’re about to witness magic you couldn’t imagine. Hang in there. It gets so much better when you let go of what other people might think — and tune into what your child truly needs.
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