Hi! So on Sunday, I did exactly what I tell every parent not to do.

We were getting ready to head out to Bais Yaakov’s play. I knew I’d be a little late due to a scheduling conflict, so I figured I’d send my Seven and her cousins ahead, and I’d join them a bit later. (By the way, that’s not the part I tell parents not to do!)

Here’s where things went south: the last time we were at that public school for a different play, the fire alarm went off mid-performance. My Seven, who vividly remembered the chaos, said, “We can’t go by ourselves! I’m so nervous about the fire alarm going off again… it was scary last time. You can’t not be there with us the whole time, Ma!”

And what did I, “seasoned anxiety expert”, respond with? Reassurance. “Don’t worry, kiddo. The fire alarm isn’t going to go off again. That was just a fluke last time. You’ll be fine without me.”

She looked at me, skeptical but trusting (wah), and said, “Fine, but only if you give me an extra snack.” (Obviously) 

Deal, right?

Wrong.

BOOM.  FIRE ALARM.

With five minutes left to the play, while the entire Bais Yaakov was scurrying backstage, and the heads of the performance were belting out the most beautiful, inspiring song, the alarm went off! As if on cue, everyone started racing toward the exits.

And there I was (Baruch Hashem!) hand-in-hand with Seven. She looked up at me with big, wide eyes. I looked back at her—GULP. What could I say? There wasn’t time for an explanation, and honestly, what would I even have said?

The truth is, I knew better. I know better! I teach this exact thing in Anxiety Made Simple. for crying out loud! I made one of the top 4 mistakes that parents make… 

Instead of leaning into the anxiety and helping her navigate it, I took the easy, quick way out. Reassurance. “It’ll be fine.” Except I didn’t really know that—and neither did she. 

What I should have said?

“Dearest Seven, it’s true. It’s a little worrisome that last time we went, the alarm went off. It felt overwhelming. And while the chances of it happening again are slim, I can’t guarantee it won’t. But here’s what I can tell you—you know just what to do. Follow your oldest cousin who’s a responsible 7th grader. Follow the crowd. You’ve practiced this at school for years. You’re brave, and you’ve got the tools to handle it.”

But instead, I didn’t want to lean into the worry. I didn’t have the time for it at that moment, plus I wanted to “fix” the worry for her like so many of us parents want to do. And in trying to make her feel better, I ended up teaching her the exact opposite of what I wanted to: that discomfort is something to avoid, rather than something she can handle.

Lesson learned—for both of us. Actually, hopefully for All of us!

, Shifi