We all, as parents, are laughing at ourselves and helicopter

The words of Liane Moriarty carry the ring of confession and paradox: “We all, as parents, are laughing at ourselves and helicopter parenting and saying, ‘This isn’t the way we were parented; we were allowed to run free.’ When I talk to my friends, we are all fascinated by what we are doing, but we can’t seem to stop ourselves.” Here, she unveils a tension familiar to our age: the yearning to grant freedom to our children, as was once granted to us, and yet the irresistible pull to guard them too closely, hovering with constant vigilance. Her words are at once humorous and sorrowful, a mirror in which modern parents see both their love and their anxiety reflected.

The ancients understood well the need for balance between freedom and protection. In older times, children were indeed allowed to “run free,” not because their parents did not love them, but because the rhythms of life demanded resilience. The fields, the forests, the village paths—these became the playgrounds where children tested their courage, their wits, their strength. Their bruises became lessons, their adventures the forge of independence. Parents knew that overprotection was a chain that stunted growth. Yet Moriarty’s words reveal how, in modern times, abundance and fear have combined to create a new form of parenting, one where safety is pursued so fervently that it borders on captivity.

Consider the story of Spartan youth, who were sent into the wilderness to survive as a rite of passage. Though harsh, it was believed to forge warriors who could endure hardship and lead with courage. In contrast, imagine if those same youths had been shadowed at every step by protective guardians, never left alone to fail or to rise. Would they have grown into the leaders that shaped Sparta’s legacy? This ancient practice, though severe, demonstrates the eternal truth Moriarty points to: too much helicopter parenting robs children of the trials that shape their souls.

Yet her words also reveal compassion. For she does not condemn modern parents, but rather includes herself among them, admitting that even when aware of the folly, they “can’t seem to stop themselves.” This is the paradox of love: the deeper it runs, the harder it becomes to let go. Parents today, armed with knowledge of dangers and fueled by anxiety, often cannot resist stepping in, shielding, directing. In their hearts, they know freedom is a gift, yet fear whispers that harm lurks in every shadow. This is not weakness, but testimony to the fierce devotion of the parental heart.

The wisdom here is not to return blindly to the past nor to cling rigidly to the present, but to seek the middle path. Children need the laughter of freedom, the courage born of scraped knees, the wisdom that comes only from risk. Yet they also benefit from the guidance of watchful love, the safety net that keeps them from destruction. The art of parenting lies not in removing danger entirely, but in discerning which dangers teach and which destroy. To deny all risk is to deny growth; to allow all risk is to court ruin.

The lesson for us is clear: parents must learn the strength of restraint. It is easy to step in, to control, to hover. It is harder, braver, to step back, to allow space for trial and error. Just as a bird nudges its fledgling from the nest, knowing it may fall before it flies, so must we allow our children moments of uncertainty. For in those moments, the wings of independence unfold.

Practically, this means setting deliberate boundaries for ourselves as much as for our children. Allow them to walk to a friend’s house alone, even if the urge to follow tugs at your heart. Let them solve their quarrels without immediate interference. Permit them to taste the bitterness of failure, and then guide them in rising again. Laugh at your own over-parenting, as Moriarty does, but also take steps to balance it with trust. In this way, children inherit both the gift of safety and the greater gift of freedom.

Thus, let Liane Moriarty’s words be etched in memory: parents must laugh at their own excesses, but also learn from them. For parenting is not the art of creating perfect safety, but of preparing children to live bravely in an imperfect world. To love is to protect, but to love wisely is also to let go. Only then will children grow not merely sheltered, but strong, free, and alive to the wonders of life.