How to Train Your Dragon came roaring back into theaters this June, and as I sat in that darkened cinema watching Hiccup and Toothless soar across the screen in stunning live-action glory, tears streamed down my face.

Not just because they finally brought our beloved Berk to life with such breathtaking beauty, but because of the flood of memories that washed over me, fourteen years of watching these stories unfold alongside my son, Abib.

When Dragons First Landed in Our Lives

I still remember that little 2-year-old boy whose eyes would light up every time Toothless appeared on screen. Back then, I wrote about how Abib loved Hiccup and Toothless more than any other animated character he’d ever encountered. We’d watch the movies on repeat, follow the series religiously, and I’d find myself just as captivated as he was by this story of a misunderstood boy and his dragon.

Watching the live-action version, I couldn’t help but see the parallels between that awkward, determined Viking boy and my teenager sitting beside me.

Hiccup, who never reasonably fit the mold of what a Viking should be.

Hiccup, who saw the world differently. Hiccup, who chose understanding over anger, compassion over tradition.

The Challenge of Teenage Vikings

The teenage years are like watching your child navigate their version of dragon training, right? In his groundbreaking book Brainstorm, Dr. Daniel Siegel explains that the adolescent brain is under construction.

But here’s what makes his research so revolutionary: he directly contradicts popular beliefs and myths about adolescence, like teens having “raging hormones” or being “lazy” or “out of control”. Regressive stereotypes are destructive not only to adolescents themselves but to parents and teachers as well.

Recent discoveries from brain imaging studies reveal surprising changes in the structure and function of the brain during adolescence. The old theories suggested that the prefrontal cortex wasn’t mature until the end of adolescence, explaining “immature” teenage behavior.

However, Siegel’s research shows us something more hopeful: adolescence is a critical, necessary phase, and the restructuring changes in the adolescent brain are vitally critical developmental changes that enable new abilities to emerge.

Think of it like this: during adolescence, remodeling occurs where the brain prunes away a number of its basic cells, its neurons and their connections, and its synapses, and then increases linkage among the remaining parts.

Those remaining parts become quicker, more coordinated, and more effective. It’s not unlike how Hiccup had to unlearn everything he thought he knew about dragons to discover their true nature.

The result of this architectural restructuring in the brain is the emergence of the adolescent mind, which is wonderfully creative, adaptive, and vibrant. Adolescence is the golden age for innovation and new ways of doing things. Suddenly, Hiccup’s ability to see solutions that centuries of Viking warriors couldn’t imagine makes perfect sense; his teenage brain was wired for innovation.

Siegel emphasizes that integration—where the various functions and parts work together—is the basis of well-being. And here’s the beautiful part: the general purpose of adolescent brain development is growth toward integration. Our teenagers aren’t falling apart; they’re integrating into more complex, capable versions of themselves.

Sometimes it feels like living with a young Viking whose emotions roar as fiercely as a Monstrous Nightmare, whose decisions seem as unpredictable as a Terrible Terror’s flight pattern. But understanding the science behind it helps me see that Abib isn’t being difficult; he’s being developmentally appropriate. The changes in the brain in this period create the “essence” of adolescence: creativity, innovation, the capacity for abstract thinking, and the drive for experimentation.

There are days when I feel like Stoick, frustrated and unable to understand the person my little boy has become. Days when I want to follow the traditional Viking way: lay down the law, demand conformity, insist on the path I think is safest. But then I remember Hiccup’s most significant lesson and Siegel’s crucial insight. If we reject or push back against these natural changes in our teenagers, the result can destroy communication.

The science shows us that the innate adolescent drive for innovation and the creation of new ways of doing things is natural and healthy. Sometimes, as adults, we see the teenage drive towards experimentation only as a negative, as a problem, a sign of teens being “crazy” or immature.

But what if, like Hiccup learning to see dragons differently, we could see these adolescent traits as assets rather than liabilities?

When I reframe Abib’s teenage behaviors through this lens, everything shifts. His questioning of established rules isn’t defiance; it’s his brain developing the capacity for abstract thinking. His intense emotions aren’t drama, they’re the natural result of his brain integrating new levels of complexity. His drive to try new things isn’t recklessness; the same innovative spirit allowed Hiccup to revolutionize his entire society.

As Abib has grown into his teenage years, I’ve faced my moments of desperation, anger, and yes, hopelessness. When he makes choices, I don’t understand. When he pushes boundaries, I wish he wouldn’t test, but he seems so far from the little boy who used to cuddle up to watch dragons fly across our TV screen.

In those moments, I’ve reminded myself that growing up isn’t about fitting into the mold others have set for you; it’s about finding your way to soar.

The Heart of a Young Viking

But here’s what How to Train Your Dragon reminded me of as I watched it again through older, more experienced eyes: teenagers aren’t just creatures to be tamed or problems to be solved. They’re individuals finding their wings, testing their strength, and figuring out who they want to become.

Just like Hiccup, Abib knows right from wrong. He has a moral compass that is fundamentally sound, even when it leads him down paths I might not choose. He has the capacity for love that runs deeper than the ocean surrounding Berk. And most importantly, he dares to be himself in a world that often demands conformity.

The live-action film reminded me that Hiccup’s greatest strength wasn’t his ability to train dragons but his willingness to see beyond what everyone else saw. To look at a feared Night Fury and visit a friend. To look at centuries of hatred and see the possibility of peace.

Growing Up Together

Watching this new version of our beloved story, I realized something profound: we’ve been growing up together all these years, Abib and I. From that toddler who giggled at Toothless’s antics to the teenager who towers over me, we’ve both been learning to be brave, choose love over fear, and believe in the possibility of change.

I may have become an even bigger Dragon fan than he is now (yes, I admit it!), but that’s because these stories have taught me as much about parenting as friendship. They’ve shown me that sometimes the most courageous thing a parent can do is trust their child to find their way, even when that way looks nothing like what you expected.

A Letter to My Dragon Rider

Dear Abib,

As I write this, you’re 14 now, the same age Hiccup was when he first learned to see dragons not as monsters, but as misunderstood creatures capable of incredible loyalty and love. I see so much of that young Viking in you.

You have his determination, his kindness, and yes, sometimes his stubborn streak that drives me to the edge of Berk and back. But more than anything, you have his heart; that rare ability to see the world not as it is, but as it could be.

I know being a teenager isn’t easy. Your brain is rebuilding itself, creating new pathways and possibilities. Some days, you might feel like you’re trying to fly with wings you’re not sure how to use yet. That’s okay. Even Hiccup crashed a few times before he learned to soar with Toothless.

I want you to know that when I watch you navigate these challenging years, I see strength where you might see confusion, wisdom where you might see uncertainty, and boundless potential where you might see limitations. You know who you are, even when the world tries to tell you otherwise. You choose kindness when it would be easier to choose anger. You stand up for your beliefs, even when it’s hard.

Just like Hiccup changed his entire village’s understanding of dragons, you have the power to change your corner of the world, not by fighting or forcing, but by being genuinely and courageously yourself.

I believe in you, not because you’re perfect, but because you’re perfectly you. Because you have a heart as vast as the sky Hiccup and Toothless fly through. Because you see possibilities where others see problems. Because you choose love, again and again, even when it’s not easy.

We’ve been on this dragon-riding adventure together for fourteen years, and I can’t wait to see where your wings take you next. Just remember, no matter how high you soar or how far you fly, you’ll always have someone here on Berk who believes in you completely.

Keep being brave, my beautiful boy. Keep being you.

With all my love and faith in the dragon rider you’re becoming,

Nyanyak

PS: Even if you think I’ve become a bigger dragon fan than you these days, you’ll always be my first and favorite dragon trainer. Now, shall we plan our next How to Train Your Dragon marathon? I hear there might be a sequel coming in 2027…