Years ago, on a quiet hike, my son Leo and I met a tiny wild rabbit.
It didn't ask to be picked up. It simply found an ancient, moss-covered tree stump, hopped onto it, and suddenly—it was tall. It was steady. It looked out at the vast forest, not with fear, but with ownership.
Leo whispered, "It's high... and it's COOL!"
In that moment, the forest taught me a profound lesson about parenting.
That stump didn't push the rabbit. It didn't hold the rabbit. It just stood there—silent, strong, and ready. It waited for the rabbit to find it.
I realized that my love for Leo had been about "lifting him up." But what he truly craved was the dignity of climbing up himself.
Hicooo was born from that stump.