the other side of the door

A few weeks ago Nolan was having a major meltdown, and now I don't even remember what it was about. He wasn't getting what he wanted at the moment and was angry at me. He had not napped, was tired and possibly a little bit sick. I had to take him up to his room and put him inside while I sat outside the door so that he could calm down safely. He mostly just knocked against the door, sat on the floor crying, and eventually just kind of yelled at me through the crack of the door. It took about 20 minutes, but we finally got to a point where he was just lightly whining, but then he wouldn't come out when I opened the door to talk. I wanted to make him clear it was a teaching moment, then get us back downstairs to keep up with whatever was happening that day. I would open the door a little while sitting on the floor outside and he would run behind the door, hide, or slowly close it from the other side. 

Though it became clear to me after a minute that it had turned into a game for him, it got me thinking about how much parenting must be like this throughout our children's lives. We are so willing to sit outside the door (or at least we should be) and wait for them. And sometimes that's all they need. Sometimes it's just about them calming down, sometimes they need a moment to be by themselves and know that you care no matter what. Sometimes they may need to be in a dark place and what they are dealing with is big and deep and dark. Sometimes it's a simple game, and just having you close is what they need.

I have no idea the issues my kids will be dealing with as they grow, the things that I will be dealing with, or the things we'll be dealing with together. I don't want to push too hard or to make them feel suffocated, and I don't want them to think that I won't take their games seriously. Whatever matters to them I want them to know it matters to me. I want them to know they can shut the door or open the door, they can look at me through the crack, or they can sit and sob. They can be silent, they can talk, they can ignore me, they can giggle and hide and then come downstairs once the reason for it all has fled their heads entirely. 

The only thing that matters is that they always know that I am on the other side of the door.