Jordan was one and a half when he decided he wanted to conquer the big slide structure at Naru.
My heart was racing the entire time.
I watched him try to climb up, nearly trip, grab the wrong thing, almost slip — and my husband and I were basically shadowing his every move. One of us on each side, arms half-outstretched, eyes locked on him. Not because we were hovering parents by nature, but because he genuinely wasn't ready. He wanted to be there. His body wasn't quite there yet.
And I get it — if you've stood next to our wooden slide with a child below three, your parent brain is doing exactly what it's supposed to do. Calculating every possible way a small human could get hurt. That's not paranoia. That's love.
But I want to talk about something I've been thinking about a lot since becoming a mum. Because it goes beyond the slide.
Don't be their limit.
When Jordan was 2 years and 3 months, I let him try the climbing structure at our condo. First time — I was panicking on the inside. But he said he wanted to try. So I stood close and guided him, one bar at a time. Hand here. Foot here. Now this one. And just like that — he did it. On his own. I stood there genuinely amazed, because he had just turned two a few months ago.
Then we found a bigger climbing structure at a mall. Nets, ropes, the whole thing — recommended for ages 5 to 12. Same process. First visit, I was right there with him: hands on the net, feet on the rope, one step at a time. Two days ago, he went back to that same structure and played for one hour and forty-five minutes. Without a single word of guidance from me.
One hour and forty-five minutes. I nearly cried — partly from amazement, partly because he absolutely refused to leave and I was still standing there.
Children learn. They adapt. They surprise you every single time — if you just give them the chance to try.
So why didn't we pad the slide?
Last week, my husband and I brought Jordan for a preschool visit — we were looking for the right school for him. The principal said something that really stuck with me. In their school, they leave the small drains on the ground uncovered. Not because they're careless — but because they want the children to learn: there's a drain here, I step over it carefully.
Because drains exist in the real world. They're everywhere. A child who has only ever walked on perfectly flat, padded surfaces hasn't learned how to navigate the world. They've just been protected from it.
We don't eliminate all the risk. We guide our children through a world that has risk in it. Because that's the world they're going to live in.
That's exactly what our wooden slide is. It's not a hazard we forgot to pad. It's a real surface, with real grip, real weight, real consequence — and when a child figures out how to climb it, hold on, and come down safely, that's not luck. That's them learning something true about themselves.
A note on age — from a mum, not just a founder.
Our slide and climbing structure is recommended for ages 3 to 12. Jordan at one and a half? Not ready. And that's okay — it just meant we had to be right there with him. Which is exactly the point.
All children at Naru play under adult supervision. Always. Not because we don't trust your child — but because you are their guide. You know them best. Stay close, let them lead, and step in when they need you. That's not hovering. That's parenting.
He's almost 2.5 now. Sometimes I think — I can't wait for him to just run off and play so I can sit with my Kindle for five minutes. But then I think about how he still reaches for my hand. How he still needs me close. I know I'm going to miss this. The tiny, wobbly version of him who wanted to climb a slide his body wasn't ready for yet.
I'm treasuring every moment while he still needs me.
Watching a three-year-old figure out how to climb that wooden structure — pausing, gripping, thinking, testing each step — is one of my favourite things to see at Naru. That's not a child in danger. That's a child learning exactly what they're supposed to learn.
Come see it for yourself. Bukit Jalil. Coffee's waiting. 💚
Ru
Co-founder, Naru Play Café
Stay close, let them lead, and step in when they need you. That's not hovering — that's parenting.