It's a drizzly afternoon. My daughter and her best friend are seated in the movie theater, listening to my instructions. This is their first time going to the movies alone—truly alone, with the entire room to themselves. The film, Storm, is a birthday gift from my daughter to her friend, complete with snacks and drinks. My rundown on emergency procedures barely registers with them. Once again, I'm the overprotective mom of a pre-teen.
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Out of politeness, they try to listen, but they're itching to pull out their smartphones for selfies. Just 10 years old! 😊 We're at a service cinema where you press a button for waiter service. When I explain the ordering process, they perk up, eager to know what they can get and how often they can call. As I wrap up my overly long speech—far more nerve-wracking for me than them—the final part of my instructions arrives…
An older man enters and sits in the back row. The girls are in the middle. They glance up briefly, then resume giggling and silencing their phones. I feel a pang of panic. I tell myself his child must be in the bathroom or fetching drinks. But no child appears.
The friends urge me to leave, but not before I drill in: if "that man" or anyone acts strangely, scream and hit the button. Only after confirming my number is saved in their phones do I exit—stomach in knots. I'm still hoping for that missing child. For a moment, I consider buying a ticket to watch from the back, but I don't want to spoil their big-girl moment. Still, I peek in briefly. All three are engrossed in the screen.
In the lobby, I confide in a friendly staff member. She reassures me completely, explaining they monitor cameras closely and check the room regularly. She notes "that man" is a regular—less abled but harmless. I cringe at my snap judgment, turning an innocent person into a villain in my mind.
The staffer wishes me a nice afternoon, granting me 90 precious minutes of freedom. Shopping was the plan, but worry lingers. I wander the city, brooding more than browsing. Fellow moms: Am I too overprotective, or would you feel the same? At what age would you let your child go solo?
Read also: Fears as a mother during parenting
As a mom to a 10-year-old, this felt like a huge milestone. Guiding her into a widening world isn't easy. She's wise and responsible beyond her years, yet delightfully uninhibited and playful—as she should be.
For me, parenting a pre-teen brings real challenges. Dangers abound: beyond traditional fears like strangers, there's abuse, kidnapping, bullying, and digital threats.
I'm seeking balance—not too lax, not too shielding; not too strict, not too permissive. Share everything or hold back? It's called letting go, and it's tough.
Unable to relax, I return early and check the camera feed. The girls are munching popcorn, eyes on the screen. "That man" watches attentively, sans snacks.
Phew. I order wine to toast the happy outcome—and brace for the wait. Trusting and letting go is easier said than done. Motherhood isn't all roses! 😊
Read also: The puberty of my girls: Their behavior makes me furious!
I usually rely on my maternal instincts with an emergency-response approach to parenting: Name, Repeat, and Trust.
Name problems and dangers openly—we discuss nearly everything. Repeat regularly; repetition builds awareness (though my kids say I overdo it). Finally, trust yourself and your child. A solid gut feeling follows.
Why did I falter this time, gripped by fear of the worst? Sound familiar?
The movie ends. The girls emerge beaming, full, and selfie-ready. Asking about "that man," they look puzzled: "Which man?"
Image used via Shutterstock
