I’m Not a Helicopter, I’m a Hang Glider

by Alexander Tidd

Let’s get something straight right out of the gate: I love my kid. I want them safe, happy, hydrated, and reasonably clean. I want them to know the difference between right and wrong, stranger danger and friendly neighbors, and why it’s a good idea to wear underwear under your superhero costume. What I don’t want is to hover over their every move like I’m directing air traffic on a windy day.

That’s why I like to say I’m not a helicopter parent. I’m more of a hang glider. I’m still in the sky, still watching, still close enough to swoop in when things really go sideways. But mostly, I’m gliding just above, trusting the winds and my kid’s growing instincts to carry them through.

The Trouble With Helicopters

The thing about helicopter parenting is that it comes from a place of love and fear. We don’t want our kids to fail or get hurt or cry at preschool because someone took their crayon. We want to smooth the road, hold the tissue, maybe even do the science project ourselves just this once.

But what ends up happening is that our kids never get the chance to figure things out on their own. When we’re always nearby with a solution, they never learn how to find one themselves. And when we rescue them from every little scrape or squabble, they don’t learn that most bumps in life are actually survivable.

Kids need space to be messy. They need the freedom to get it wrong and try again. That is how resilience is built. Not through constant praise or participation ribbons, but through the real satisfaction of solving something hard.

Being a hang glider parent doesn’t mean stepping back completely and hoping for the best. It means knowing when to hover and when to drift. It means watching your child struggle to zip their own coat and resisting the urge to do it for them. It means letting them negotiate a playground disagreement before stepping in to mediate.

This approach takes a boatload of trust. You trust that your kid will speak up if something feels off. You trust that they’ll remember what you’ve taught them. And when they forget, you trust that it’s not the end of the world. It’s just another lesson in the never-ending series that is growing up.

There have been times I’ve watched my kid get frustrated trying to build something or figure out the rules of a game and thought, “Should I help?” But most of the time, I wait. I hover silently, not like a machine but like a parent with a parachute just in case.

Look, we all crash sometimes. That’s part of learning to fly. There will be tantrums. There will be tears. There will be weird social interactions involving glitter and glue sticks and accusations of who got more sparkle. That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.

Helping your child work through a tough moment after the fact is often more powerful than preventing it in the first place. They learn that emotions are manageable. That mistakes can be fixed. That it’s okay to feel big feelings and still find your way through.

And for the record, being a hang glider parent doesn’t mean you never intervene. If a situation gets unsafe or if your child is overwhelmed and needs help, of course you step in. But you do it with the goal of giving them tools, not just taking over.

What They Learn When We Let Go a Little

When we let our kids take the lead now and then, they learn they are capable. They start taking pride in the little things. Like pouring their own cereal or saying sorry without prompting. They build confidence that isn’t tied to what adults think but to their own sense of effort and growth.

They also learn to deal with other people. When you’re not always speaking for them or solving their problems, they begin to find their voice. They make friends, they lose friends, they figure out how to share space with others who have their own opinions and snack preferences.

More importantly, they learn that we trust them. That’s huge. A child who feels trusted is more likely to come to you when something’s really wrong. They’re also more likely to trust themselves.

Hang gliding isn’t all floating peacefully. Sometimes the winds shift fast. Sometimes you misjudge the distance to the ground. Sometimes your kid has a meltdown in aisle three and you wonder if maybe the helicopter parents were onto something.

But hang in there. You are still the safety net. You are still the steady breeze behind their wings. And they are still learning to fly, even if that means a few crash landings now and then.

So here’s to all the hang glider parents. The ones who hover just far enough away to let their kids wobble a bit. The ones who hold space instead of holding hands every second. The ones who let their children stretch into independence, even when it would be easier to just do it themselves.

It isn’t always graceful, but it sure is worth it.