By Jane Sonnenschein October 18, 2026

Over the past month or two, I’ve become increasingly aware of some changes in my nine-year-old daughter, Alicia.

Sometimes she does things that genuinely surprise me. I even find myself wondering whether I’ve been underestimating her abilities all along. But at other times, she can make me so frustrated over the simplest everyday things that I hardly know what to say.

Take tonight, for example. Before going to bed, I looked into her room and found it in a complete mess again.

Just a few days ago, she had spent an entire morning rearranging her bed, desk, and bookshelf. Her bed used to be on the left side of the room, with her desk on the other side. But she came up with a new layout herself and moved several pieces of furniture into different positions.

When I heard what she’d done, I was genuinely astonished.

I couldn’t even imagine how she had managed to move that bed on her own. Chris told me she’d done everything herself. And when I went into her room to have a look, I had to admit that her new arrangement really did make the space feel much bigger.

I praised her at the time. I hadn’t expected her not only to be capable of organizing things, but also to have her own ideas about how an entire room should be arranged.

And this wasn’t the first time she’d surprised me.

Not long before that, she had taken our terribly messy refrigerator and organized it beautifully. Then she turned her attention to the kitchen shelves, where we kept food in all kinds of awkwardly shaped packages.

Two boxes had been crammed full of things: dried seaweed, soy milk, red dates, pickled mustard greens, and packets of seasoning, all mixed together. I’d tried sorting them out myself and eventually found the whole thing rather overwhelming.

In the end, Alicia took everything out and arranged it all neatly again.

Because her own room had been messy for so long, I’d come to think of her as a child who simply didn’t have much sense of order.

But after seeing her do these things one after another, I realized that she wasn’t just capable of tidying up. She actually had some very good ideas about arranging spaces and organizing objects into categories.

And yet, when I looked at her room again tonight, I couldn’t help sighing.

She’s been doing a lot of arts and crafts lately, and the materials are everywhere. There are scraps of paper and little objects scattered across her desk, the floor, and the area around her bed.

The room she’d worked so hard to rearrange only a few days earlier had already returned to its usual messy state.

Then there’s her wardrobe.

I’d folded her clean clothes and left them in the living room. Several times, I’d reminded her that she had time during the autumn school holidays to take them back to her room and put them away.

She agreed each time, but she was clearly reluctant.

Today she said to me again, “Mum, I don’t want to do it. Could you do it with me tomorrow?”

I really didn’t know what to say.

I’ve already helped her organize that wardrobe countless times. Sometimes we’ve spent almost an entire day doing it.

Everything looks lovely when we’re finished. But afterwards, she starts stuffing clothes into it again without much thought. Eventually, it gets so full and messy that clothes sometimes fall out when we open the door.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve reminded her about these things.

When you’ve finished making something, put the materials away. Throw away the scraps of paper you’ve cut off. When your clothes have been folded, put them back in the wardrobe.

None of these tasks is particularly difficult on its own.

But she simply doesn’t want to do them without being reminded.

And yet, just a few days ago, she made something that amazed me all over again.

Her friend Lina, who lives downstairs, has a toy cash register. Alicia really liked it and wanted to borrow it for a while, but Lina didn’t want to lend it to her.

So Alicia thought, if she couldn’t borrow one, why not make one herself?

And that’s exactly what she did.

She built a cash register out of cardboard.

It wasn’t simply a matter of finding an empty box and drawing a few buttons on it.

First, she worked out how she wanted it to be constructed. She drew plans on cardboard, decided on the measurements, and then cut, folded, and glued the pieces together to turn flat sheets into a three-dimensional structure.

There was even a drawer underneath that could be pulled out, with paper money she’d made herself inside.

She also made a handheld scanner and decorated the cash register with her favorite cartoon designs.

When I saw it, I casually suggested, “Why don’t you make a receipt too?”

She thought about that for a moment and started working out where the receipt should come from.

Eventually, she designed a small paper dispenser on the side of the cash register, so it could imitate the way a real machine prints a receipt after a card payment.

She even made her own bank card, complete with a drawing of a chip and a contactless payment symbol.

There were a few misspelled English words on the cash register. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

What amazed me was that she’d done almost everything herself, from the initial idea to the finished product.

The body of the cash register and its drawer were particularly interesting. She’d used cardboard and paper of different thicknesses, and the measurements had to fit together.

She needed to think ahead about how the materials would look once folded and how the different parts could be assembled.

Even just looking at the finished cash register, I could see how much thinking must have gone into it.

And she was willing to spend most of a day, perhaps even an entire day, working with those pieces of cardboard, making adjustments until she had created exactly what she wanted.

When she finished, she told me she wanted to give the cash register to me.

And that wasn’t all.

A few days earlier, she’d also crocheted a little three-dimensional doll, complete with a head, body, arms, legs, and a hat.

When I was a child, I watched my mother knit sweaters, and I learned a little basic knitting myself.

As an adult, I once knitted a scarf for Chris, which remains one of the very few things I’ve made.

But crocheting a three-dimensional doll like that? I have absolutely no idea how to do it.

Alicia, however, was able to watch videos on her own, study the stitches and shapes, and eventually make a complete doll.

So I’ve increasingly come to feel that she has a genuine interest in making things with her hands, along with some abilities that deserve to be developed further.

And she certainly isn’t a child who lacks patience.

Quite the opposite.

When she really wants to do something, she can concentrate on it for hours. She looks for solutions herself, makes adjustments when something doesn’t work, and keeps going without anyone having to remind her.

So why does she seem to become a completely different person when it comes to putting clothes away, cleaning up her craft materials, or reviewing what she’s learned at school?

That’s the question I’ve been struggling with lately.

Not long ago, Alicia and I had several disagreements over her German studies.

She’s already in fourth grade. Her German reading isn’t a major problem, and her English is very good. But her written expression, spelling, and punctuation still need quite a bit of practice.

I want her to gradually learn how to review her own work.

She needs to understand which words she can spell correctly, which things she hasn’t yet mastered, and how to correct mistakes once she’s made them.

But she still seems very used to simply completing whatever tasks someone else gives her.

If Mum tells her to do a worksheet, she does the worksheet. If she’s asked to read a few pages of a novel and write a short summary, she completes those tasks.

But once she’s finished, she rarely stops to consider what she still doesn’t understand or which mistakes she needs to practice again.

Sometimes, when she spells a word incorrectly and I ask her to practice it a few more times, she becomes very reluctant.

I find that especially difficult to understand.

How can she spend an entire day designing and making a toy she likes, yet be unwilling to spend a few minutes practicing a word she doesn’t know how to spell?

Gradually, though, I began to realize that there might be an important difference here.

She’s capable of taking the initiative when she’s doing something she has chosen for herself.

But she hasn’t yet learned how to take the same initiative with things she hasn’t chosen, even when they’re necessary parts of everyday life.

When she was making the cash register, she had a clear goal.

She wanted that particular toy, and she wanted to make it herself.

She knew what she was trying to achieve, and she could keep changing and improving things until the finished product matched what she had imagined.

Putting clothes away is different.

You tidy your clothes today, but a few days later you have to do it again. You put away your craft supplies, only to take them out again tomorrow.

There isn’t much novelty in these tasks, and they don’t leave you with a finished creation you can admire for days afterwards.

Some of the repetitive exercises involved in schoolwork are much the same.

You learn how to spell a word today, but you may need to review it again two days later. You solve a maths problem correctly, but next time you still need to be able to solve it independently.

For a child, these things may not provide the same immediate sense of satisfaction as finishing a handmade creation.

But the problem is that life can’t consist entirely of things we enjoy doing.

Someone can be wonderfully creative and still need to learn to put their clothes back in the wardrobe, throw away rubbish, and complete the schoolwork they’re responsible for.

So I’ve come to think that what Alicia really needs to develop may not be an interest in everything she’s expected to do.

Instead, she needs to gradually learn that even when something isn’t particularly interesting, she can still find a way of doing it that works for her, get it done, and keep doing it over time.

Of course, that’s much easier to say than to put into practice.

And lately, I’ve also been noticing changes in Alicia in another part of her life.

Since I started working in September, our family’s daily arrangements have changed quite a bit.

In the past, I used to take Alicia to her martial arts school every Friday.

But after I became busier with work, I wanted Chris to take over. Unfortunately, he often had headaches or wasn’t feeling well enough to take her.

So we decided to try letting Alicia travel there by tram on her own.

The route isn’t particularly complicated. It’s only three stops, and she knows the way.

But the first time we suggested that she go by herself, she was very hesitant. She kept saying she couldn’t do it and was worried about going alone.

Eventually, she agreed to give it a try.

She arrived at the school without any problems and came home on time.

What surprised me was that after that first trip, she simply started going to her martial arts school by herself.

We no longer needed to take her there every Friday.

There have been other changes too.

Previously, whenever she wanted to ride her bicycle, I had to help her carry it up from the basement.

Now she can carry it up those steps herself and then head off on her bike.

A little while ago, a thirteen-year-old friend came over to visit.

That evening, her friend needed to take public transport to the railway station to meet her mother. Alicia suggested accompanying her and then coming home by herself.

I asked, “Are you sure you can go there with her and then take the tram back on your own?”

She answered confidently that she could.

So the two girls travelled to the railway station together. Her friend and the friend’s mother saw Alicia onto the tram for the return journey.

I stayed in contact with her by phone throughout the trip, and she eventually arrived home safely.

Only when she got downstairs did she tell me that she’d actually felt a little frightened.

It had already become dark, and the streetlights near our building weren’t particularly bright.

I told her, “You were very brave.”

Because to me, a child managing to do something independently doesn’t mean that she never felt afraid along the way.

She may still hesitate or feel nervous. But she’s beginning to realize that even when she’s a little frightened, she is capable of getting things done on her own.

Recently, she also told me about something that had happened while she was travelling to her martial arts class.

She noticed that a manhole cover seemed to be loose and nearly stepped on it.

She recognized the danger, tried to move the cover, and placed a stone on top of it.

Of course, something like that is better left to adults, so she doesn’t risk hurting herself.

But even from this small incident, I could see that she’s beginning to observe her surroundings, recognize potential problems, and respond to situations independently when she’s outside.

None of these changes happened because we suddenly came up with some special parenting plan and started training her to do things one by one.

Much of it happened simply because I started working and could no longer arrange every little detail of her life as I had before.

Places where Mum used to take her are now places she goes by herself.

The bicycle Mum used to carry upstairs is now something she can carry on her own.

And the room she once needed Mum to help organize is becoming a space she’s learning to arrange according to her own ideas.

It suddenly occurred to me that a child’s independence doesn’t necessarily begin only when the parents believe the child is ready.

Sometimes life gives a child an opportunity first.

And only after trying something for the first time does the child discover that she was capable of doing it all along.

Recently, we also bought Alicia a small suitcase.

After the autumn holidays, her school is organizing a three-day class trip for the fourth graders. The children will spend several days away from home with their teachers and classmates.

While we were buying the suitcase, I suddenly had a strange feeling.

She’s really getting close to finishing primary school.

I’d always felt that children grew so slowly.

For a while, I even wanted to measure her height every few days. But no matter how often I measured, there hardly seemed to be any change.

Then I stopped measuring for a month or two.

When I checked again, she’d grown by at least 2.5 centimetres.

Perhaps that’s simply how children grow.

When you live with them every day, it’s surprisingly difficult to notice all those small changes.

Then one day, you look back and realize how many things they can now do that once required your help.

And the funny thing is that even while I’m amazed by all these changes, Alicia can still drive me up the wall by refusing to tidy her wardrobe.

She can spend an entire morning rearranging the furniture in her room, but won’t spend a little time putting her clothes away.

She can design complicated craft projects herself, yet won’t clean up the scraps of paper scattered across the floor.

She can take the tram to martial arts classes on her own, but still needs me to remind her to complete some of her regular schoolwork.

I used to find all of this terribly contradictory.

But the more I think about it, the more I wonder whether our understanding of growing up is simply too focused on everything developing together, neatly and at the same pace.

It’s almost as though we expect a child, once she’s growing up, to become responsible, independent, and self-disciplined all at once.

She should be able to take care of herself, study seriously, and keep her life organized.

But real growth doesn’t seem to work that way.

A child may have come a long way in certain areas while still needing repeated reminders in others.

Alicia can build a cardboard cash register that I wouldn’t even know how to make, yet she still hasn’t developed the habit of putting her clothes away.

That doesn’t mean her abilities in the first area aren’t real.

And it doesn’t mean the problems in the second area should be ignored.

Both are real.

As parents, we shouldn’t stop expecting our children to develop basic habits simply because they’re doing well in certain areas.

But neither should we overlook the progress they’ve already made just because they continue to struggle with other things.

All this has made me think about something we often say we want our children to develop: initiative.

But how does initiative actually develop?

If a child can already think independently, look for solutions, and take action when doing something she enjoys, perhaps what she needs isn’t another long lecture about responsibility.

Perhaps she needs to gradually learn how to apply the abilities she already has to those everyday tasks that don’t interest her quite as much.

But it’s not as simple as saying to her, “If you can make a cash register, why can’t you put your clothes away?”

Because completing a creative project you’re excited about and consistently doing something repetitive and boring are not exactly the same ability.

The first requires interest, imagination, and a willingness to solve problems.

The second also requires habits, a sense of responsibility, and the willingness to act even when there isn’t much enjoyment involved.

Perhaps that’s what makes raising and educating children so difficult.

We can’t teach our children to do only the things they enjoy.

But at the same time, we shouldn’t overlook the interests and abilities that are already growing naturally within them simply because they struggle with certain repetitive tasks.

And I’m still trying to find the right balance myself.

When I saw Alicia’s messy room tonight, I was still angry.

Understanding more about her personality and abilities hasn’t suddenly made me perfectly calm about finding craft supplies scattered everywhere and clothes that haven’t been put away.

Especially now that I’m tired from work myself, I simply don’t have the energy to spend an entire day tidying her room for her, as I sometimes did in the past.

I want her to take responsibility for her own things.

That expectation hasn’t changed.

But at the same time, I can see more clearly than before that she’s genuinely growing.

It’s just that the direction and pace of that growth don’t always match what I expect.

She can now go out on her own, help her friends, design and make her own creations, and begin organizing her living space according to her own ideas.

All these changes have happened within just the past month or two.

And perhaps the reason I’ve been able to connect them is that I’ve started taking writing seriously this year.

In the past, many things happened in everyday life and were soon forgotten.

If Alicia tidied the kitchen, I’d praise her.

If she took the tram by herself, I’d be happy about it.

If she made a toy, I’d think it was interesting.

Then a few days would pass, and I’d forget about it.

But now, because I keep recording and looking back on these experiences, I’m gradually beginning to see that all those little moments, which once seemed unrelated, are actually becoming part of the story of a child growing up.

We often feel that everyday life is much the same.

We work, cook, go to school, go to bed, and repeat the same things the next day.

But when we look back at our children, we suddenly realize how much time has quietly changed.

The child who once needed someone to hold her hand and accompany her can now take the tram by herself.

The child who didn’t know how to organize her room is beginning to design the space according to her own ideas.

The child who once simply played with toys can now draw plans, cut cardboard, and make a toy that actually works.

And yet, that same child, who is slowly growing up, will still leave her room in a complete mess.

She’ll even say to her mother, quite confidently, “Could you do it with me tomorrow?”

When I think about it, sometimes I find it funny. Other times, I feel rather helpless.

Perhaps this is simply what growing up looks like.

She becomes more and more capable while still having plenty of things left to learn.

And as parents, we can only keep appreciating the abilities she’s already developed while continuing to teach her how to take responsibility for the things she hasn’t yet learned to manage.

As for why she’s willing to spend an entire day making a cash register but won’t spend ten minutes tidying her room, I still haven’t found an answer that explains everything.

But I’m increasingly beginning to feel that instead of repeatedly asking why she doesn’t want to do something, perhaps there are more useful questions to explore.

How can we help a child gradually learn to take action even when she isn’t interested in the task?

And how can we teach responsibility without wearing away the enthusiasm and creativity that are already so naturally part of who she is?

I think these are things I’ll need to keep observing and learning about.