Dear, today it’s your birthday. You are three year old now. It’s a time for celebration, however last night I smashed your favorite toy. It hit the floor and went into pieces. Although this morning you already forgot what had happened and like usual you lit up the world with your sweet smile, I still couldn’t get your tearful eyes out of my mind. I could still hear your broken pleadings: “Fix it, mummy, fix it.” Oh, babe, I am so sorry! 

Last night, you kept asking for one more crackers. I refused because you had coughed a lot and the crackers would only cause you to cough more. You started crying, immediately your grandma and grandpa gave in. They would give you anything to stop you from wailing, even a few minutes ago you had already coughed to vomit. To avoid a scene, I hold you to the bedroom and closed the door.

Dear, I couldn’t give in. I've learned the hard way that if I gave you an inch, you would run roughshod over me. One more crackers would not kill you, but if-you-cry-you-would-get-everything-you-want concept could eventually ruin your life. I am your mother, I have to stand firm on this. You are only three year old, but you are such a good chess player! You know when to attack, when to defend, and when to slide in under a weak spot. You had your grandpa and grandma on your side, and even your father’s eyes started to waver. You knew if you cried harder, your grandpa and grandma would soon come to your rescue, and then I would buckle under pressures. Therefore, you cried, you screamed, and you stomped. To distract your attentions, I gave you your favorite toy. You immediately threw it to the floor, and the head of this poor toy digger was broken. I felt the situation beginning to spiral out of control. You were again pushing at the boundaries to see how far I could let you go. Never show weakness. That was sole advice I’ve learned from the life for facing bullies, wild animals, or disobedient three-year-olds.

“Young man, are you sure about this?” I picked it up and bent to meet your eyes. Stubbornly, you nodded your head. “Then you should do it properly!” I said, and I smashed it to the floor. The music died and it went into pieces.

There was a moment of silence---a moment seemed like an eternity. You stopped crying and you just stared at the wretched parts of your favorite toy scattering on the floor. “Mummy, fix it.” Tears welled up in your eyes, and this time there was no threatens but only naked pains. Guilt rose in my throat, suffocating and almost choking me on the spot. “It’s beyond repair. I can’t fix it.” I said sadly. “No, no, you can, mummy fix it, please.” Your voice was almost broken. I picked you up and held you tightly. "You should know better than to throw things away, especailly things you really like because once they are broken, you couldn’t get them back. And remember tempers tantrums accomplish nothing but cause more damages than you’d expect.” I don’t know how much you could understand. But finally you were quieting down, and your sobs dissolve into occasionally hiccups.

After put you to bed, I was still upset. Being a mother was a huge responsibility, sometimes I got lost, and there are times I felt like living on the edgy of panic. I want you to be happy, but I also want you to grow up to be an independent and responsible person. I dread to become one of those parents who, under the name of love, have created a world of false safety and illusions where their kids could do whatever they want, get whatever they want. Once the cruel reality pierced the cocoon they have woven, their kids would be left nothing to defend.

However, I should not smash that toy. It was a special Child Day gift from Guoguo---your best friend, and also the first friend you made in nursery school. Now for some reasons, we decided to send you to another nursery school, so you might never see her again. How could I destroy it? If I tried harder, there must be another way to teach you from right and wrong.

Babe, I am so sorry!