This weekend, Sam suited up in his warm clothes, snapped on his bike helmet, and headed off to play at the park around the corner. By himself. Okay, not entirely by himself—he was with Carter, James and Charlie. But he wasn’t with me. Or his daddy. “Will there by any grown-ups there?” he asked, in a voice that struck such a fine balance between enthusiasm and trepidation that I wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. “Soon, yes. We’ll come over with the dogs in a bit, but you can head there on your own first.”
(Gulp) And there he goes. Photo snapped by Daddy.
We’ve been working towards this tiny nudge from the nest for the whole summer. He’s been able to leave the park ahead of us, rounding the corner out of sight (and delighting in arriving home alone, his bike already stowed in the garage before we’re even on the street). He’s been told over and over how to cross Lexington right from the end of our street rather than on the bend near the park. To look both ways. To commit to crossing once he’s started into the road. Cars cutting through the neighbourhood sometimes take that corner too fast. Way too fast.
But, it’s time. He’s 7 and a ½ .
Last May, during his annual check-up with Dr. Munro, Sam was quizzed about his freedoms. “Do you walk your dog?” Yes, says Sam. “On your own?” Well, sometimes I get a head start and go a few driveways down the street before my mom or dad comes. “Do you ride a bike?” Yes, says Sam. “Around the block?” Well, no. I can go a few driveways up or down the street. At which point my trusted doctor turns to me and says, “He’s growing up, Mom. Doesn’t have to be watched every minute of every day.”
Ouch. Did she suspect me of being a “helicopter mom,” hovering overhead to protect my precious one & only from real and imaginary dangers? Failing to teach him the street smarts he’ll need to be a capable, responsible, trustworthy kid? Acting as a buffer between him and the cruel, cruel world so he never develops the inner resiliance he’ll need to get back up when life knocks him down? In short, did she think I was raising a Mama’s Boy? Yeesh.
Now Sam hasn’t exactly been clamouring for more autonomy, for the right to stretch his own wings and fly his bike around the block without us. He seems happy with the middle ground. He braved Walt Disney’s Space Mountain last January, and then he happily rode out of the park on his Daddy’s shoulders. He doesn’t panic when he loses sight of me in a busy mall, but then he also doesn’t object when I take his hand in the busier parking lot. He’s growing up fast, but he’s still comfortable with being treated as though maybe he isn’t.
Which is why, perhaps, he was heading back to the house on his own when Janey and I rounded the corner towards the park with Anabel and the dogs this weekend. “Wow! That took forever! I was just making sure you were still coming” he called out. It had been 15 minutes. He seemed happy to have had the chance to go on ahead of us, but happy nonetheless to spot us coming. Not a Mama's Boy. Just a little kid getting used to the idea of taking responsibility for himself. It'll take us a while to get used to it, too ... the notion of our own "Peep" out in the big, wide world of the local playground.
(Gulp) And there he goes. Photo snapped by Daddy.
We’ve been working towards this tiny nudge from the nest for the whole summer. He’s been able to leave the park ahead of us, rounding the corner out of sight (and delighting in arriving home alone, his bike already stowed in the garage before we’re even on the street). He’s been told over and over how to cross Lexington right from the end of our street rather than on the bend near the park. To look both ways. To commit to crossing once he’s started into the road. Cars cutting through the neighbourhood sometimes take that corner too fast. Way too fast.
But, it’s time. He’s 7 and a ½ .
Last May, during his annual check-up with Dr. Munro, Sam was quizzed about his freedoms. “Do you walk your dog?” Yes, says Sam. “On your own?” Well, sometimes I get a head start and go a few driveways down the street before my mom or dad comes. “Do you ride a bike?” Yes, says Sam. “Around the block?” Well, no. I can go a few driveways up or down the street. At which point my trusted doctor turns to me and says, “He’s growing up, Mom. Doesn’t have to be watched every minute of every day.”
Ouch. Did she suspect me of being a “helicopter mom,” hovering overhead to protect my precious one & only from real and imaginary dangers? Failing to teach him the street smarts he’ll need to be a capable, responsible, trustworthy kid? Acting as a buffer between him and the cruel, cruel world so he never develops the inner resiliance he’ll need to get back up when life knocks him down? In short, did she think I was raising a Mama’s Boy? Yeesh.
Now Sam hasn’t exactly been clamouring for more autonomy, for the right to stretch his own wings and fly his bike around the block without us. He seems happy with the middle ground. He braved Walt Disney’s Space Mountain last January, and then he happily rode out of the park on his Daddy’s shoulders. He doesn’t panic when he loses sight of me in a busy mall, but then he also doesn’t object when I take his hand in the busier parking lot. He’s growing up fast, but he’s still comfortable with being treated as though maybe he isn’t.
Which is why, perhaps, he was heading back to the house on his own when Janey and I rounded the corner towards the park with Anabel and the dogs this weekend. “Wow! That took forever! I was just making sure you were still coming” he called out. It had been 15 minutes. He seemed happy to have had the chance to go on ahead of us, but happy nonetheless to spot us coming. Not a Mama's Boy. Just a little kid getting used to the idea of taking responsibility for himself. It'll take us a while to get used to it, too ... the notion of our own "Peep" out in the big, wide world of the local playground.
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