My son is in seventh grade now and has been accepted into the prestigious school he has longed for. As a mother, I am genuinely happy about this. During those days, to stimulate his intrinsic motivation, I pretended to be “unconcerned” about his studies, neither tutoring him nor providing extra resources, which indeed made me worry a lot. I thought that once he got into a key school, I could take a breather as his “study companion,” but seeing the more severe pressure for further education, I wanted him to stand out. Coupled with his ease in learning mathematics, I thought of the Olympiad in Informatics, commonly referred to as “IOI.” One day, while he was solving math problems at home, he suddenly exclaimed, “Mom, if this problem had a loop, it could be solved in just a few lines of code, quickly and clearly.” I could see the spark of excitement in his eyes; he genuinely liked this stuff. However, as a mother, I had no idea where to start. I didn’t even know how to write code; I only knew how to use office software on a computer. My son wanted to learn IOI, and besides supporting him, I felt lost and anxious: Where do we start? Who do we learn from? Where can we find reliable resources? In our small town, there aren’t many teachers in this field. I had no choice but to explore on my own. While he was at school during the day, I became a “web worm.” I searched tirelessly on Baidu, Zhihu, and various parent groups, like a headless fly, asking: “How to start learning IOI?” “What are the introductory courses for IOI?” “What are the reliable online platforms?” “What is the learning path for IOI?” The results were varied, filled with advertisements, making it hard to discern the truth. I attended trial classes one by one, checked reviews, compared prices, and looked up any professional terms I didn’t understand. My phone was filled with bookmarks, and my notebook was full of website URLs and platform names. Sometimes, to verify whether an online coach was reliable or to clarify details about a competition notice, I could spend an entire night in front of the computer. The process was truly not easy; it felt more exhausting than going back to school myself. Looking at the dazzling course introductions and hearing about how early other kids started and how great their teachers were, I wondered: Am I starting too late? Will the money spent yield results? But seeing my son come home every day, fully engaged as soon as he opened the computer to write code, I felt it was worth the effort. I found the resources, signed him up for an online course, and the real challenge began. Those codes looked like hieroglyphics to me; the English words and strange symbol combinations scrolling on the screen made me dizzy. I couldn’t help him with knowledge, so I decided to accompany him in a different way. In the evenings, when his study room was lit, I was there too. I was no longer the “supervisor” during homework but became a quiet background presence. When he sat at his desk, typing away and frowning over algorithm problems, I would sit not far behind him, quietly watching. I didn’t understand, but I could feel his frustration when he got stuck and the relief in his shoulders when he solved a difficult problem. He was very engaged in his learning, often losing track of time. Whenever he encountered something he didn’t understand, he would seek solutions. After more than twenty days of study, he can now easily tackle beginner-level problems, and he is gradually becoming proficient with the practice problems for the general group. Although the path of self-learning is arduous, finding and selecting resources is also crucial, and managing costs can be a test of patience. Fortunately, I have found the ideal solutions, and I hope to win an award in the upcoming competition. This would not only affirm my role as a learning companion but also reward my son’s hard work. I welcome any interested mothers to discuss this; it is a great choice for capable children.