When my son eats instant noodles, he insists that they must be soaked, not boiled. And if it’s in a cup, he insists on using the cup itself—no switching to a regular bowl. But that’s not all. After soaking, he insists on sticking a fork into the lid, ensuring it doesn’t lift. My husband finds this troublesome and doesn’t understand it. He insists on using a basin, covering the noodles directly, thinking it’s more efficient. But I gently convinced him to follow my son’s way. In my opinion, this isn’t pampering, and my son isn’t being difficult. I understand that when he’s on the train, he’s seen others preparing noodles this way. Maybe the image is more vivid in his mind, enhanced by the hunger of travel, making it seem especially pleasant. So, that method of making noodles has become part of that pleasant experience. To preserve that happiness, every step of preparing the noodles must be followed exactly as he remembers it. If even a small detail is missed, it’s not right. It’s not just about the noodles; it’s about the feeling, the emotions, the happiness tied to a specific memory. It may seem like a small thing, but it’s actually significant. If we can handle these small things well, it’s one more step toward becoming friends with our children.

I can clearly remember when I was a teenager, I had a similar attitude. My mom had a rather careless way of picking vegetables. Every time she made noodle soup with green beans, I’d almost always find a bug in the noodles, which came from the beans. She never checked the beans before snapping them and tossing them into the water. After washing them quickly, she’d throw them straight into the pot. Finding bugs always brought my mood down for days. So, I asked her to let me pick the beans from then on, making sure to remove every part that might have a bug. But she often forgot, and would still toss them in carelessly. So, every time I eagerly went to pick the beans, only to find the noodles already on the table, it was a feeling that words can’t describe. If I ate, I’d encounter those bugs. If I didn’t, I’d be left starving. After a few times, my emotions would get the better of me, and I’d snap at her. She couldn’t understand, but would stay silent. My anger would subside quickly, though. But my dad would often chime in, saying I was unreasonable, criticizing me for taking my anger out on the family but not daring to express it outside. His words only made things worse, fueling my frustration. There were many similar instances. For example, on some summer mornings, my mom would announce, “We’re having cold noodles for lunch today.” I’d get excited, imagining how refreshing it would be to eat cool noodles under the hot sun. But when lunchtime came, the noodles would be warm, at best just not hot. The huge disappointment instantly shattered my dream of cold noodles. The reason? My mom was worried that eating cold noodles might give us a stomach ache, so she purposely didn’t make them cold. Was she wrong? Not at all. She cared about me, and I knew that. But could that change the feeling of disappointment? No, it couldn’t. That disappointment wasn’t about her, but about the situation. Many things like this happened when I was a teenager, and I can still remember them clearly—the feelings and the expectations I had at the time.

Even today, I still think that many emotions during the teenage years are actually quite simple. What parents see as a storm is often just the child’s breakdown from feeling misunderstood. It has nothing to do with respect or disrespect. Just like those moments with my mom, where she would often remain silent, and her silence would help me calm down. I would realize that my outbursts were inappropriate and that I should talk to her calmly. But at that moment, I couldn’t control myself. My dad’s unjust criticism, however, would only make my emotions escalate, sometimes even causing an explosion. The teenage years are the beginning of puberty. On the outside, kids may look like adults, but mentally, they’re still maturing, undergoing rapid development. They have a strong sense of self and yearn to be seen, respected, accepted, and understood. The daughter mentioned in the title is at that stage.

As kids grow up, the first thing parents need to do is to know when to be quiet and trust their children. If they want to do something, let them do it willingly, without moralizing or blowing small things out of proportion. If my daughter wants to make noodles a certain way, let her. If she wants to do something her way, just ask her if she can do it that way, and if she says no, don’t push it. Respect her choices. If I truly think her way is unhealthy, I should voice my opinion in a respectful, consultative tone. That’s how I can show respect for her, and she will definitely feel that respect.

When it comes to making instant noodles or cooking beef rice, even if my child hasn’t directly asked me to do something a certain way, as a mother, I should be able to sense what she really needs. Kids are so sensitive at this stage, and only those who’ve gone through it understand. In fact, kids don’t ask for too much; they simply want to be trusted and respected in their decisions. Even if, by accident, I go against their wishes, as parents, we always have the opportunity to make amends. In such situations, showing vulnerability often works best. Most people are inclined to protect the weaker party, which makes them feel strong, and everyone wants to feel strong.

For example, if someone accidentally bumps into you and immediately offers a sincere apology, compared to someone who ignores it or adds, “It wasn’t on purpose,” which would you be more likely to forgive? Everyone makes mistakes; showing humility in those moments is the best way to resolve conflict.

Sometimes, when my son asks me to do something and I inadvertently do it my way, I can sense a change in his mood once he notices. I immediately apologize, saying, “Oh dear, my brain must be rusty! You told me how you wanted it, and I even repeated it to myself, but I got distracted and messed it up. What now? Look at me, I’m all upset, and you’re the one comforting me!” He’d reassure me, “It’s okay, Mom, don’t worry about it. Just do it the right way next time.” I’d take the opportunity to say, “Alright, I guess my memory’s not as good as yours now. How about next time, we do it together? That way, we won’t run into problems.” My son is in first grade, and showing vulnerability works every time with him. Teens need their parents to show vulnerability. When they realize their parents rely on them, their sense of responsibility naturally grows.

In the end, I wish the best for both of us!