Sharp Things Could Lurk Beneath the Surface
This morning, Little Son`s yuppie preschool had its annual "pumpkin hunt" park outing. They used to go to one of the commercial pumpkin patches, but that got too hectic, so now they just hide pumpkins in a nearby playground.
This meant the parents had to stand around the playground for an hour or so, watching all the kids play.
Little Son was with the big kids -- his four-year old buddies -- walking up one of the slides.
"I can`t believe people allow their kids to do that," said one of the fathers, whom I didn`t know. "I taught my kid to never walk up slides. It`s so dangerous."
"My son copies everything his big brother does," I said. "And 11-year olds walk up slides."
The father was a bit ruffled by this.
"Well, you`re the parent! You`ve got to tell him no!"
"Eleven-year olds want a reason for everything. If I tell him NO, he asks, WHY? And walking up a slide isn`t all that dangerous for an 11-year old." Or for a 4-year old, depending on the kid, I thought to myself.
"You don`t have to tell him a reason! He should just listen to you because you`re his mother and you said so!"
The guy was clearly getting perturbed.
"I think that if I fell back on 'Because I`m your mother and I said so' too much, without also explaining the reasons to him, I would lose credibility very quickly, with my particular kid," I said.
I didn`t feel like getting into a whole explanation of Big Son`s personality -- how he takes after me, and is a natural questioner. Overall, I think explaining my reasoning to Big Son instead of just giving him orders has actually made him respect my judgement more, as he gets older. He seems to question me less and less, even as he questions the rest of the world more and more.
"Which kids are yours?" I asked the dad.
"Just her -- we just have the one," he said, pointing at an adorable, delicate slip of a girl in a striped pastel dress, with golden ringlets spilling out of the sides of her ruffled sunbonnet. She was playing very gently with another little girl.
I immediately understood exactly where this dad was coming from.
"And which one is yours?" he asked.
"Right there -- the one who`s walking up the slide."
To his credit, the father didn`t say anything -- or even raise his eyebrows. So I decided to change the subject, and we made small talk about something else.
Then I noticed Little Son taking off his sneakers, to empty the sand out, and then leaving them off and playing in his socks.
"HEY!" I said, realizing too late that his teachers would now know exactly why he says that word too much. "Put your shoes on!"
"My daughter always takes hers off, too," said the father.
I looked. Sure enough, his delicate daughter was running around in just her frilly socks.
"I used to let my kids go barefoot, but then I cut myself on a piece of broken glass," I said. That was years ago, at the playground next to the beach in Santa Monica -- I didn`t injure myself badly, but it really drove home the point that sharp things could lurk beneath the surface.
"So you`re projecting onto your kids," he said.
Huh? Was he serious? He wasn`t smiling. I decided not give my usual snarky answer, just in case.
"Yep," I said.
I decided I no longer wanted to talk to this dad -- he seemed nice enough, but we obviously weren`t on the same parenting planet.
But later, I noticed that he made his daughter put her shoes back on to play in the sand.
This meant the parents had to stand around the playground for an hour or so, watching all the kids play.
Little Son was with the big kids -- his four-year old buddies -- walking up one of the slides.
"I can`t believe people allow their kids to do that," said one of the fathers, whom I didn`t know. "I taught my kid to never walk up slides. It`s so dangerous."
"My son copies everything his big brother does," I said. "And 11-year olds walk up slides."
The father was a bit ruffled by this.
"Well, you`re the parent! You`ve got to tell him no!"
"Eleven-year olds want a reason for everything. If I tell him NO, he asks, WHY? And walking up a slide isn`t all that dangerous for an 11-year old." Or for a 4-year old, depending on the kid, I thought to myself.
"You don`t have to tell him a reason! He should just listen to you because you`re his mother and you said so!"
The guy was clearly getting perturbed.
"I think that if I fell back on 'Because I`m your mother and I said so' too much, without also explaining the reasons to him, I would lose credibility very quickly, with my particular kid," I said.
I didn`t feel like getting into a whole explanation of Big Son`s personality -- how he takes after me, and is a natural questioner. Overall, I think explaining my reasoning to Big Son instead of just giving him orders has actually made him respect my judgement more, as he gets older. He seems to question me less and less, even as he questions the rest of the world more and more.
"Which kids are yours?" I asked the dad.
"Just her -- we just have the one," he said, pointing at an adorable, delicate slip of a girl in a striped pastel dress, with golden ringlets spilling out of the sides of her ruffled sunbonnet. She was playing very gently with another little girl.
I immediately understood exactly where this dad was coming from.
"And which one is yours?" he asked.
"Right there -- the one who`s walking up the slide."
To his credit, the father didn`t say anything -- or even raise his eyebrows. So I decided to change the subject, and we made small talk about something else.
Then I noticed Little Son taking off his sneakers, to empty the sand out, and then leaving them off and playing in his socks.
"HEY!" I said, realizing too late that his teachers would now know exactly why he says that word too much. "Put your shoes on!"
"My daughter always takes hers off, too," said the father.
I looked. Sure enough, his delicate daughter was running around in just her frilly socks.
"I used to let my kids go barefoot, but then I cut myself on a piece of broken glass," I said. That was years ago, at the playground next to the beach in Santa Monica -- I didn`t injure myself badly, but it really drove home the point that sharp things could lurk beneath the surface.
"So you`re projecting onto your kids," he said.
Huh? Was he serious? He wasn`t smiling. I decided not give my usual snarky answer, just in case.
"Yep," I said.
I decided I no longer wanted to talk to this dad -- he seemed nice enough, but we obviously weren`t on the same parenting planet.
But later, I noticed that he made his daughter put her shoes back on to play in the sand.
posted by L. at 12:11 PM
12 Comments:
That made me snicher. What a mental case. Although I can sorta relate, we who only have one child take a longer time to get to the point where we let our kids juggle knives. Or walk up the slide ;)
L. you are the queen of a new parenting genre.. nuance-parenting. It is more than admirable. I go crazy so often over parenting affiliates of mine that say 'just' 50 million times a day and always have a pat answer.
I guess this guy is happy to live nuance free.. but ya know I would never read his blog. And, he couldn't parent half the crowd you have IN HAND
The "because I told you so" tactic is completely lame.
Good on you. He's just being self-consious.
Another stellar example of why I loathe the park - all the parents that come along with the kids.
Heck my DOG goes up the slide!
How dangerous can it be!!!
That's just weird. what he's not comfortable with is DANGEROUS. What you're not comfortable with is projecting? Whatever.
Oh, and my grandfather died from a rusty nail, so I'm a bit neurotic on that one. No one in my family has (yet) died from falling down a slide that they were walking up, so I would let that go.
I let my 14 month old climb up the slide all the time. And have since she started walking about 4 months ago. I think that dad is out of his mind.
Oh, it is the little victories in life that are so sweet. You know, that little girl will never be able to go barefoot again.
The slides will probably be the next thing to go. Much too dangerous.
Have you seen a see-saw lately? I haven't or one of those merry-go-rounds. The city has removed all but one of the swings.
Sometimes I wonder how my generation survived childhood.
Everyone has their own ideas of safety and that's fine. Mine run barefoot a lot. What isn't fine is the judgmental attitude.
On the walking up the slide, it's only "dangerous" when another kid is trying to go down, you know, the right way down the slide. I usually do stop mine from going up if the general crowd is going down.
And how could you resist not saying, "protecting? Of course I am protecting my children"
Oh, honestly. My friend Kat is younger than I but a wiser sage than I'll ever be, and she has noted on more than one occasion that "other people's issues with you are rarely about you." Case in point.
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