The Four-Year-Old Who Saw His Sensitive Brother Clearly

Hi everyone! Yasmina Al Hahbare is a mom of four, but she's also a family consultant and the founder of the parent coaching program Lotus Principle (you can find her on Instagram here). In her work, she supports families around emotional development, high sensitivity, and connection in everyday life. She wrote us a personal column about her highly sensitive child, guilt, and unconditional sibling love.

“It was one of those days again. One of those days when I was just plain exhausted. Alone again with two little kids, ages two and four, very pregnant and completely at my limit. Dave wasn't coming home, work wouldn't let him
go, and I sat there at our kitchen table, wiped out and already falling apart inside.

Highly sensitive child: “I just didn't know”

My son, who was two at the time, is highly sensitive. I didn't know that yet. All I knew was that he was different. Demanding. Loud. Quickly overwhelmed. Nothing was ever right. His clothes bothered him, noises were too much, and little things could knock him completely off balance. He cried a lot, screamed a lot, and went from zero to furious unbelievably fast. Often I didn't even understand why.

And no matter how hard I tried, it never seemed to be right. Today I know that he often didn't know himself what would help him. But back then, for months, I stood in front of a child who was emotionally at his limit all the time, and I tried somehow to get him through every meltdown, every bout of sadness, and every crisis. Sometimes that could fill an entire day.

The big brother rises to the occasion

And then there was my older son. Four years old. Full of patience and compassion. A kid who had to take far too many physical hits because Ben didn't know what to do with all his feelings. Matchbox cars flew through the air, doors slammed, little hands
pushed. And the more I tried to stop this behavior, the clearer one thing became: I couldn't.

There were moments when I truly thought I couldn't do this. And sometimes I even thought I couldn't love my own child anymore. Not because I didn't want to, but because the connection between us was slowly getting lost under all the fighting. With every clash, another piece of it disappeared. And all I wanted, more than anything, was that connection back.

The judgment outside our front door kept growing

Outside our four walls, the pressure was growing too. Walking through town with him felt like running a gauntlet of stares. After a while, people knew us. His loud meltdowns. My desperate attempts to somehow hold the situation together.
I only walked down the street with my head down. Family members criticized my ‘parenting style.’ Of course, the criticism was always aimed at me. Wherever we were, life just seemed like too much for Ben. And I was just not enough.

And then came that one day.

After Ben had gone after his big brother again and thrown Matchbox cars at him, I took care of the older one first, watched the little one lock himself in his room, full of shame, and finally sat down at the table. I buried my face in my hands and started sobbing.

Then I suddenly heard myself ask: ‘Sam, why do you keep playing with Ben? How do you do it?’ Not exactly my shining moment as a mom. Sam just sat there, looked up at me, all of four years old, and said in a calm voice: ‘Mom, Ben is just Ben.’

I stopped crying right away.

“I like Ben”: No judgment, no anger, no eye-rolling

No judgment. No anger. No annoyed eye-roll. No attempt to change his brother. Just acceptance. He got up, headed toward the kids' room, and added: ‘I like Ben.’ A little while later, I heard the two of them playing again. And suddenly there was quiet. Not in the room. But in my head.

To this day, I believe that was one of the most important sentences of my entire life as a mom. It felt like all the pressure vanished at once. All the voices. All the expectations. All the guilt. Because yes, the road with a highly sensitive child isn't always easy. But if we're honest: Which road with kids is?

“Ben is just Ben.”

Every person is as individual as life itself. And for Ben? That sentence was probably one of the greatest gifts of love he'll ever receive, even though Sam will never know how much it changed. Because from that moment on, I stopped fighting my child.

I marched side by side with him, in step, right through the front lines. Today, in my work as a family consultant, I meet many parents who are standing at exactly this point. Parents who are tired. Overwhelmed. Who love their child more than anything and still sometimes don't know what to do next.

And every time, I think back to that one sentence: ‘Ben is just Ben.’”