“You can’t always hold their hand, but you can put strength in their heart.”

A Monster Born Among Giants

The other day, I took my oldest son, Remi, to a birthday party for one of his preschool classmates. It was a pirate themed event, filled with hats, water balloons, and laughter. But beneath the joy, something unfolded that pulled me straight back to my own childhood.

You see, Remi was born during COVID, and much of his earliest life was spent indoors. That isolation left him with a speech delay, something we have been working through. He is bright, curious, and full of life, but sometimes he struggles to communicate, and that can lead to frustration.

And at this party, a bully showed up.

My Own Reflection

As I watched Remi try to join the older kids, memories flooded back.

When I first came to the United States, I was timid, alienated, and did not know the language. At home, life was far from easy. Children pick up on weakness. They sense it. Without a father to defend me, and with a mother who never believed in me, I had no one to fight my battles but myself, and the haunted memories of being locked in a basement to carry me through these battles. Those memories forged me into someone who had to become strong, or be crushed.

That is why I have my own name for bullies. I call them giants.
And sometimes, in order to live among giants, you must become a monster.

The Moment I Found Him

At one point, I turned away for a drink, trying to ease the tension of being around so many strangers. When I looked back, Remi was gone. Someone told me he was in a tent getting stamps for the treasure hunt.

When I found him, I knew instantly something was wrong. He was holding back tears.

I asked what happened. He said nothing, but the older boy was nearby, glaring. I did not need details. I knew.

And then Remi did something he had never done before. He whispered, “Daddy, can you give me a hug?”

I hugged him tightly and told him:
“I will always love you. No matter what happens in life, I will never leave you behind. I will always come find you. You are my world, and without you, my life will never be full.”

He nodded. And then, with quiet strength, admitted: “Yes, he did something.”

The Hardest Thing a Father Can Do

My blood boiled. Every fiber of me wanted to step in, confront that boy, or find his parents and tell them exactly what their son was becoming. But I did not.

Because this was not my fight. It was his.

So I told Remi, “Go play again. Daddy will be right here, watching.”

Inside, my mind repeated: “Stay strong my son. You are not smaller than that giant.”

The Transformation

To my amazement, that was all he needed. My presence, my belief, and my unconditional love.

Remi ran back into the chaos, laughing and chasing the kids his age, this time unafraid.

When the piñata came out, the older kids swarmed the candy. But my son, smaller, outgunned, and determined, fought his way in.

He wrestled. He yelled. He shoved back when pushed.

And when that older boy tried to take candy from him, Remi did not back down. He fought back like a lion. He used his whole body and weight to his advantage, yanked the candy out of his hands, shoved it into his bag, and ran back to me, triumphant.

In that moment, time froze.
And I was the proudest father alive.

The Lesson

That day, we both passed a test.

I learned that sometimes your child does not need you to fight their battles for them. They need your confidence, your presence, and your unconditional love so they can fight their own. Because one day, you will not be there. And they will need to stand on their own.

Remi learned, in the span of an hour, one of life’s hardest lessons. That giants can not only be faced, but defeated. And that even the smallest can fight back.

And as for me, I know now that I do not have to worry. Even if I was to pass, my son is strong. Strong enough to face giants. Strong enough to become the monster when the world demands it.

“Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy.” — Robert A. Heinlein

That day, Remi became stronger. And I became prouder.