In thisage of Internet chat, videogames and reality television, there is no shortageof mindless activities to keepa child occupied. Yet, despite the competition,my 8-year-old daughter Rebecca wants to spend her leisure timewriting shortstories. She wants to enter one of her stories into a writing contest, a competitionshe won last year.

As awriter I know about winning contest, and about losing them. I know what it islike to work hard on astory only to receive a rejection slip from thepublisher. I also know the pressures of trying to live up to a reputationcreatedby previous victories. What if she doesn't win the contest again? That's thestrange thing about being aparent. So many of our own past scars and dashedhopes can surface.

Arevelation (启示)came last week when I asked her, "Don't you want to win again?" "No," she replied, "I　just want to tell the story of an angel going to first grade."

I hadjust spent weeks correcting her stores as she spontaneously( 自由地)told them. Telling myself that Iwas merely an experienced writerguiding the young writer across the hall, I offered suggestions forcharacters,conflicts and endings for her tales. The story about a fearful angelstarting first grade was quickly "guided" by meinto the tale of alittle girl with a wild imagination taking her first music lesson. I had turnedher contest into mycontest without even realizing it.

Stayingback and giving kids space to grow is not as easy as it looks. Because I knowvery little about farmanimals who use tools or angels who go to first grade, Ihad to accept the fact that I was coopting (借用)mydaughter'sexperience.

Whilestepping back was difficult for me, it was certainly a good first step that Iwill quickly follow with moresteps, putting myself far enough away to give herroom but close enough to help if asked. All the while I will bereminding myselfthat children need room to experiment, grow and find their own voices.