User Error: World Too Big

Ben's POV

It is hard to be small and even harder when you are hungry and live in a world where everything, EVERYTHING, is made for the comfort of adults.

I was playing on our rug. We have a nice rug. It is beige and fluffy, and when I fall on it, it does not hurt at all. Mummy was sitting on a sofa behind me. It is nice, too. It is also beige and has a lot of pillows. I like to jump on them. Sometimes, Daddy throws me on them and tickles me. I laugh a lot then, and when I do, he does, too. It is a nice game.

Next to the sofa, there is a low table. Mummy and Daddy call this table a coffee table, but it is a snack table. It has a platter with fruit, a small bowl with cookies, and a cup with cornsticks. And my water bottle. From time to time, Mummy and Daddy put their cups on it, too, but they are usually empty when I check them out. So, the table is a snack table. Today, there were only not good fruit and cornsticks, and I ate them all before the nap. I checked it out a few times, but it was still empty.

From time to time, I looked at Mummy. Most of the time, she was looking at her book. Once, I saw her watching her hand. I think she was puzzled about why her nails were red. Earlier this morning, I was puzzled about it, too. Yesterday, they were not. But I got over it.

I felt this unpleasant feeling in my tummy that sometimes comes and usually goes away when I eat something. Most of the time, Mummy can sense when it happens and gives me snacks. But today, she didn't. I looked at her, but she was turning pages in her book on the sofa.

So, I thought I'd get myself a snack. Mummy always tells me how big and independent boy I am, so why wouldn't I? I went to where the food was. At first, I tried to reach the fridge handle. There's always a stack of tasty yogurt in there. I couldn't grab it even when I stood on my toes and stretched my arm high. I could see Mummy across the corridor, still looking at her book.

The fridge idea didn't work, so I thought I'd have some crackers. They were in a drawer. But I went through every drawer except the top one, and they weren't there! I could not see what was in the top drawer. It was too high. I could only open it. I grunted. It was not fair. The unpleasant feeling in my tummy was getting worse.

I tried the counter for an apple, again on my toes and with my arm stretched high. But the counter was too high, too. I went to the cupboard. I opened it. Biscuits were on the third shelf from the bottom. I could reach them if I only stood on the bottom shelf. That was not a problem, as I can climb well. But the bottom shelf was so full I could not put my foot there! I squatted and pulled out a big box from the shelf. It was super heavy, so I grunted a bit. I succeeded because I am a strong boy. Mummy says it is because I exercise with my mummy and my daddy every day. I was happy. I noticed that bowls were printed on the box. I think it was not a nice box. I have much nicer boxes in my room. I don't even know why my parents would keep this one. I looked at it and then realized something. It looked like my stool! I had a stool in the bathroom. It was there so I could stand on it and reach the tap when I had to clean my hands. I had a great idea. I would use the stool to reach the shelf with biscuits. I left the food room, Mummy still on the sofa, and went to the bathroom.

I leaned on the door and raised my hand to reach the handle. I climbed on my toes. But it was too high, again! I had enough. I punched the door. I don't even know when it happened, but I started crying. I just sat there and cried. I looked at Mummy. She said, "What happened, young man?" but I couldn't answer. I pointed at the handle and tried to say something, but the tears kept coming, and I started sobbing instead.

"Do you want mummy to come over?" she said, and I nodded and stretched my arms towards her, and then she came and hugged me and stroked my hair. I was safe, and I cried in her neck and her black hair that always smells of roses, and I hugged her and it seemed like I might be alright.

When I stopped crying, she asked, "What happened, honey?"

I pointed to my tummy and said, "Yum-yum."

"Are you hungry?"

I nodded.

"Come on, let's get you something, it's almost dinnertime."

Mummy picked me up. I wrapped my legs around her belly and my arms around her neck and kept my face in her hair. It was soft and made me feel better. I know she'll make it alright.

Tina's POV

Ben is playing on the rug, almost disappearing in the fluffiness when he lies down with his monkey figure. I'm watching him from the sofa, behind a book I stopped reading a while ago. Not that it's boring. I just like watching him like this — on his own, on a quest where he doesn't need me. This is becoming more and more frequent, more and more normal. My time is, step by step, being returned to me.

I still hold the book, though. So he thinks Mummy is busy with something.

I look at my rings, one on every other finger. My nails, painted red for the first time in months — years, really. My dress, one from four seasons ago, fitting again. I enjoy everything I see.

He turns to look at me. I turn a page, and move my eyes to the book.

Then he stands up and walks to the kitchen. Steady step. He's so small and so serious.

He tries the fridge handle first. Tiptoes, arm stretched high. Can't reach it. He moves to the counter. Same pose, same result. He looks around, opens the cupboard, tries to put his foot on the bottom shelf. It's full. He squats and pulls out a big box — grunts with the effort, makes a small satisfied sound when it hits the floor. He stands and looks at it for a moment.

I stay still. I could help. I could have helped at the fridge, at the counter, at the cupboard. I don't. He's thinking. He's trying. He's doing exactly what I want him to do.

He turns and walks to the bathroom.

I see it half a second before it happens. He leans on the door, reaches for the handle on his tiptoes — too high, like everything else — and then punches the door and slides to the floor.

I put the book down.

"What happened, young man?"

He points at the handle and tries to say something. The tears keep coming. He starts sobbing.

"Do you want mummy to come over?"

He nods and stretches his arms toward me. I go to him, hug him, stroke his brown locks. He cries into my hair.

He tried the fridge. The counter. The cupboard. He made a plan. And then the world was, once again, the wrong size.

I hold him and say nothing. There's nothing to explain. He already knows more than I could tell him.

Inspired by

Research on toddler autonomy and the competence gap

My takeaway: somewhere between ages eighteen months and three years, toddlers develop a fierce drive to do things themselves. Erikson called this "I'll do it myself" phase the autonomy vs. shame and doubt stage: children this age are actively constructing their sense of self as a capable, independent person.

The problem is that the body hasn't caught up. Ben's executive function, problem-solving ability, and persistence are all firing correctly — he identifies the goal, generates solutions, encounters obstacles, adapts, tries again. By any measure, he's doing everything right. The world is simply the wrong size.

The breakdown at the bathroom door is the accumulation of five consecutive failures, each one a small confirmation that the world wasn't built for him. Tina's instinct — come immediately, no questions, no "why didn't you just ask me?" — is right. At this point, Ben doesn't need a lesson. He needs to feel safe again.

What to do (or: what I'd do in the ideal world ;) )

- Don't rush to fix it or explain it. When the breakdown happens, presence matters more than solutions. Get down to their level, make physical contact, wait.

- Name what happened, simply. "You wanted to do it yourself and it was too hard." Not a lecture — just a witness.

- Adjust the environment where you can. A stool by the fridge, a hook at their height, snacks on a low shelf. Every small accommodation is one fewer battle between their will and the world.

- Resist "just ask me next time." They weren't wrong to try. Saying that teaches them their instinct toward independence was a mistake. It wasn't.

- Notice the competence too. Ben got remarkably far on his own. That's worth acknowledging — separately, later, when he's calm.

Have you ever watched your toddler work through something and deliberately not stepped in? How long did you last? ;)

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  Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash