On Saturday, Lucky finally conquered the slide.
The pesky playground slide had thwarted my 2 and a half year old for, well, for as long as he’s been old enough to use a playground slide. The very first time he slid down, he turned around and tried to scramble back up the slippery slope.
It was his Everest. It usually ended win Lucky surrendering and going around to use the steps to get back on.
But not on Saturday. Not only did he conquer the little slide. He managed to climb up the 6-foot twisty one.
And to think, it almost didn’t happen … because his mommy almost stopped him
As I begin my countdown to 40, I thought it would be appropriate to do some writing. I might look back or I might try to look forward. But hopefully, I might discover something about myself. On March 27, I will have lived 40 years. It‘s time to take stock.
The best subject to start with is Lucky, who has helped me grow more than anyone in my life. Children just do that. You want to keep them from harm.
Truth be told, there is a part of me that wants to wrap all but his face in bubble wrap when we hit the playground. Especially when he tries to climb things that take him several feet off the ground. On Saturday, my son discovered that by going up the slide bum first and using his hands to push himself up was the way to go.
However, this position sometimes caused his head and a shoulder to lean out over the edge. I pictured him losing his grip and falling to the ground. My heart jumped into my throat when I realized what he was doing. And I blurted out, “Stop! Stop it now!”
He looked at me and paused. I realized he was facing a choice, lose the ground he worked so hard to gain or risk making one very panicked mama angry.
I’m not sure what other parents might have done. I’m sure there are a bevy of answers I would get if I asked around. But I was acting on what I was taught in childhood. And that experience wasn’t exactly a good one.
My childhood was one big “BE CAREFUL.” And I was shielded in ways you couldn’t imagine. There was the time I asked about joining Girl Scouts. Mom said no. Someone might molest me. During my classes for First Communion, I was the only child who did not go on a field trip to a farm because farms are for adults. They’re dangerous. I was not allowed to climb trees. Oh and a parent had volunteered to drive the children. NO WAY my mom said. What if that parent crashed the car. I might die.
I was not allowed to do much. I secretly did a lot - I even smoked as a pre-teen a few times - but I was always in fear when I did it.
This is how I started life. Afraid of everything. I realize a long time ago that I still fight back the idea that I can’t do something, physical (and otherwise) because it’s too much for me. And I’ll get hurt.
Back to Lucky and the park. For a split second, he looked at me, then tested his limits by taking a slight step and continuing his climb. And I realized the boy didn’t need a lecture, he needed a spotter. With hands up, to catch him in case he came tumbling down, I watched him make the climb. He made it … five times. And I cheered every time.
When he got bored, he moved on to something else.
I’m still not sure if I was right to let him do it. Worse yet, here I am cheering his little achievement. What have I done? Given the kid license to do something crazy? Like Shaun White or Bode Miller or Apolo Ohno? Lucky may never be an Olympian or an NHL player. If ever someone told them “Don’t. You’ll get hurt,” I’m glad they didn’t listen.
So maybe this means I’m going to standing under a lot of slides with my arms up for a long while. And you know what? I don’t mind that at all.
