The weather’s got me thinking outside the house. This time last year, my almost-18-month-old son couldn’t walk. As a result, we didn’t spend a whole lot of time playing outside. I didn’t trust him to hold his own among kids
The weather’s got me thinking outside the house.
This time last year, my almost-18-month-old son couldn’t walk.
As a result, we didn’t spend a whole lot of time playing outside. I didn’t trust him to hold his own among kids at the playground and he looked so pitiful just flopped in the grass.
This year, the little guy doesn’t just walk, but runs, dances and jumps. There is nothing he likes more than being outside. There are days — even chilly ones — where I have to carry him into the house because he wants so much to play outside.
On Thursday we had a wonderfully unscheduled morning. Instead of bustling off to work, we brought the bikes out of the basement, hooked the trailer on the back and went for a ride.
It was delightful.
We rode from our home on the north side to the Kids’ Cove playground. Our son talked the entire time. If he couldn’t see me out the side of the trailer, I heard “Where’s Mama?” He told us about every vehicle we passed, pointed out the lake, the dogs being walked on the path.
When we got to the playground, he jumped right in. He’s pretty adventurous: not timid about going down slides or swinging high on a swing, but he’s much more conscious of falling and tripping than he used to be.
While exploring the big playground, he knew there were places he couldn’t go and he’d tell us about it.
“I’m too little,” he said, eyeing up a chain bridge.
“Way far down,” he said, looking through some tires to the ground.
He still wants to try everything, even though it might not work — but he doesn’t want to fall.
And I so want to keep him from falling. When he trips or stumbles running around the house or the backyard, I’m the first one to help him up, dust him off and encourage him to keep going.
When it comes to the scarier possible falls — the tumble down the stairs or the skinned knees and hands that would come from a trip on the driveway — I just wish they’d never happen.
I love that my son seems to have inherited some of my sense of adventure.
I think I spent half my summer vacations up in a tree. I remember climbing to the very top of a playground set and walking across a beam to get to a preferred perch, all the while carrying a book. Instead of the river-side path while hiking, I was more inclined to jump from rock to rock above the water.
Now that I’m a mom, I have a better idea of what was in my parents’ hearts and minds when they watched me imitate a mountain goat.
I have to fight the impulse to tell my son to slow down, step back, take it easy. Some days, I constantly remind myself that one year ago, I couldn’t wait for him to learn to walk.
I need to tap into my childhood self, find that exploration impulse and channel it with the little guy. Maybe we’ll go camping, and take him on a hike; let him play and run in an empty field; fly down the hill on a bicycle; stoke his thrill-seeking self and follow him as he learns what wonders await in the big, wide world.
• Mommy Talk is an online parenting blog written by (Racine, Wis.) Journal Times reporters Janine Anderson and Marci Laehr Tenuta. Find it online at www.journaltimes.com/mom.
