I thought alot about it before I let her see the wolves.  They have been there all her life, but I had shielded her eyes from them.  I didn't want her to be afraid.  After all, the wolves are impowered by one thing alone--and that is fear.  They have grown stronger now and my daughter huddles in her chair, sinking deep into the crimson cushions as if she would force her body into the very fabric.

I have other children, so parenting is not new to me.  I wrote the first parenting advice ever given, but few people pay much attention to it. As anyone who has children knows, every child is different, even if they are all born into the same family.

So I suppose you want to know why I let her see the wolves.  I had hoped a little dose of reality would jolt her into action.  I mean, wouldn't you jump up and run if you saw a ravening wolf closing in on you?  I hoped she would--but nope, she didn't. She clenched her fist around that little brass key in her hand and glued herself to that crimson chair. 

I wanted to dash into the room and grab it from her.  I could barely restrain myself from making a mad dash for it.  I could have had the door opened in fifteen seconds, if that.  But then, that would have spoiled the whole plan, wouldn't it?  We parents can orchestrate events, sometimes, that motivate our children to help themselves, but the minute we take over and try to do it for them, we ruin them.  They may  exchange the prison they are in for another one, but they won't be able to stay free unless they decide to use the key.

The wolves have retreated.  At last, the girl has seen the chains that hold the creatures at bay.  Relief washes over her, her body relaxes and her hands unclench.  She is no longer afraid of the wolves.  Her gaze returns to the window.

Hey!  Don't look right through me!  I am here, right in front of you.  Can't you see me?  I am here for you.  Just get out of the chair and take one step sideways.  Use the key and you will be out here with me.  In the fresh air and the sunshine.

The girl is looking past me.  I know what she sees.  I can feel the foul breath of the thing on my neck.  I will not turn around.

To be Continued