📓 Field Diary – Entry #2
Title: The Brommer and the Trust
Date: 2026-01-27
Subtitle: This is where it moved from me to him.
⸻
I still can’t believe how it all unfolded.
How the thing that had us circling for months
just opened in a single breath.
Daniel came home—muddy, alive.
He’d been at a friend’s farm, fixing a brommer with a bunch of boys.
They needed a pipe, so they biked to another town, got what they needed, came back, fixed it together.
He texted me: “Mom, I’m gonna be home late.”
Asked if he could eat at his friend’s.
And of course, the mother said yes.
And of course, I said yes.
Because today, I was no longer managing his behavior—
I was watching his becoming.
⸻
We sat later, him on the stove, me on the piano bench.
And he said, “Mom, I’m really looking forward to the brommer. I’m already learning so much.”
And I said,
“Yes. That’s why you need to do it yourself.
That’s how you learn.”
He agreed. He felt it.
And I told him again,
“School matters. Learning how to learn matters.
Piano or another instrument. That’s non-negotiable.”
He didn’t resist.
He said, “That’s no problem. If I’m going to switch schools, I’ll still do that.”
He told me he had nine friends in his class.
That he’s a popular boy—not because he tries to be,
but because he says what others think and dares to say it out loud.
And yes, that might be why the teachers push him out—
because when he stirs, others follow.
But that’s not disobedience.
That’s leadership learning how to stand.
⸻
We talked about safety.
The helmet. The illegality. The driveways of friends with farms.
“I trust you,” I said.
“But always wear the helmet.”
“Yes,” he said. “Their moms make them too.”
It wasn’t control.
It wasn’t a negotiation.
It was trust, grounded in clarity.
⸻
Then came the moment:
“If you show me you’re serious about school,” I said,
“And if you start playing piano again…
Let’s see if we can get you that brommer for your birthday.”
And he said yes.
No games. No bargaining.
And then he said, “I need a job, Mom. Parts and gas are expensive.”
And I said, “Yes, they are.”
And now he’s going to talk to a farmer tomorrow.
On his own.
Because now the movement comes from inside him.
Not pressure.
Will.
⸻
And I see it now.
The gift wasn’t the brommer.
It was giving him the chance to become the boy who earns it.
That’s how it moved from me to him.
⸻
And yes, Leila too.
Her school day, the animals, the small project with wood—
She was proud.
She showed me her plan.
Said she liked the work.
“We do it at home too,” she said.
Like she already knew how to belong there.
And yes, she’s not Sina.
She’s not watching Netflix for tips on makeup or boys.
She’s watching Peterkin.
She’s still Leila.
And I need to honor that.
Not choose a school to keep up with another girl’s parents.
Not try to prove anything through tuition.
Just listen.
And let her be led by what brings her alive.
⸻
And yes… just yesterday, I was ready to throw in the towel.
I actually threw the phone.
Not to break it—
And now—one day later—
I have two children who feel happy.
And I didn’t make it happen.
I just let go.
⸻
✨ This is where it worked. This is how I’ll remember:
When I stopped trying to teach trust,
and started living it—
it moved from me to them.