For two weeks in early July, a juvenile hawk was making all kinds of racket outside our kitchen window. My kids heard it first and talked about it at dinner. They could see the bird perched in a tree, screeching and whining—loudly. Then they saw another hawk land on the branch beside the juvenile, and yet another was circling above it. My son, Parker, had done research about this behavior. He taught us that those were the adult hawks encouraging their baby to try to hunt. The juvenile was ready to be on his own but was nervous. He wanted his parents to provide for him. Parker told our table that it would be like this for several weeks until the parents quit giving him any food.

I think I hid my tears well as I sat there thinking how ironic it was that my 18-year-old, who was himself weeks away from leaving his own nest, was telling us this information. Once the lump in my throat eased, I also thought how a pair of hawks can teach us about parenting and appropriate accommodations.

Accommodations are actions we as parents take or don’t take in order to provide comfort for our children—or, better yet, in order to protect our children from feeling uncomfortable.

We never get a babysitter because our daughter does not like it when we go out without her. This is an accommodation.

Our 8-year-old does not like to sleep in their room at night, so they sleep with us or we sleep with them every night. This is an accommodation.

We make accommodations all the time! We are good at it. Who wants to hear the screams, cries, and devastating whines of a child when all we need to do is not go to dinner or just sleep in the same room with them? We are tired, and it is late. Maybe we convince ourselves it’s not worth the fight.

Ahhh, but what about those hawk parents? When their juvenile was hollering and making a ruckus, they did not bring him food. They were present. One sat on the branch with the young hawk to give support. The other was circling just above, reminding the baby that they were still there. I like to think that those parents were saying supportive phrases like:

“Oh baby, this is so hard. I hear the fear in your cries, but I know you can catch your own dinner.”

“Trying something new is scary, but I am sure you can do this.”

“Ok, little one, I can see this makes you nervous. I can tell that you wish I would do this for you, but I believe in you. You can do hard things. I know you will be able to do this.”

I talk a lot about “true support” during my parenting workshops. The combination of validation of feeling and confidence from a parent to a child equals true support. This is a helpful tool when we are trying to reduce accommodations and build up our children’s skills. I am positive that hawk parents teach their babies all the skills needed to survive outside the nest before they launch them. They provide, teach, and support. The bird is ready but nervous. I get that, but boy, to be like those adult hawks! Encourage and be present while letting our ‘babies’ do it for themselves—yes!

So how do we know when to step in and when to step back? One question I often encourage parents to ask themselves is: “Am I protecting my child from danger, or am I protecting them from discomfort?” If there is a true safety concern or your child lacks the skills needed to be successful, step in, teach, and support. But if your child is safe, has the skills, and is simply anxious, frustrated, or uncomfortable, that may be the moment to stay close, encourage them, and let them work through the struggle. Our goal is not to eliminate discomfort but to help our children discover that they can handle it.

I am running through my list these days with my own launching young adult. Have I provided unconditional love? Have I taught them the skills? Have I supported their efforts and not accommodated too much? It is a long list, and I do repeat it often.

And I remind myself, as I would you: progress, not perfection