I’m perched on my front porch, fingers dancing across the keyboard while my kids (ages 2, 4, and 6) are lost in a fantastical world involving worms, the garden hose, and a plastic wheelbarrow. When my iced tea runs dry, I can’t focus without my caffeine fix, so I dash inside, leaving my three boys to their merriment outside.
Yes, my kids play unsupervised. My yard is safely fenced with a gate at the driveway. The little one isn’t about to bolt into the street. They know the drill: stay in the yard, don’t chat with strangers, and my oldest is in charge of keeping an eye on the younger ones, ensuring kindness and sharing—especially when it comes to the hose. So no, you don’t need to call the cops. They’re just fine, even during the eight minutes it takes me to brew some tea, with occasional glances out the window.
I’m a firm believer in unsupervised play. I often just swing open the backdoor and let them roam, which they do often. They’re aware of the “no-go” zones, like the shed (mostly due to creepy crawlers) and the rules against throwing projectiles or digging in unauthorized spots (yes, we have designated digging zones). They know they can’t touch the hose unless I give the green light. My 6-year-old is cautious around bees due to his allergy, and they all know to stay calm if he gets stung and come find me right away. The most dangerous thing out there? Probably mosquitoes, which could be carrying West Nile.
But scratch that. The real threat might just be you, the overly concerned neighbor. My anxiety isn’t about my kids; it’s about the cops knocking on my door, flashing their badges. I dread the questions: “Why are the kids outside alone? Why aren’t they in school today? Can I come in?”
They’re playing outside alone because that’s simply what kids do. I did it as a child, too. My grandmother would shove us out the back door and let us explore for hours. By the time I was 7, I was allowed to go to the park across the street as long as she stayed on the front porch. There I was, just me and my 5-year-old sister, navigating swings and slides made of metal.
Now, my almost 7-year-old and nearly 5-year-old wouldn’t be allowed to roam the park solo. But they always go with me or other moms, which is basically the same as being unsupervised. They know to play nicely, avoid throwing sand, and not to wander far. They’re perfectly capable.
What I truly worry about are the well-meaning folks who see them and think, “Oh no! A child alone—this must be a crisis!” They approach my kids, causing confusion, and before long, the police are involved. By then, my children are too flustered to explain the whole “free-range kids” concept, leading to a call from social services—who, by the way, have better things to do than interfere in my children’s blissfully unsupervised existence.
So please, let them be. They’re safe and know what they’re doing. My oldest is nearly 7, after all. They have more important things to focus on than worrying about a nosy neighbor or answering a cop’s questions.
After all, they’re kids, and their main job is to play, so just move along!
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Summary
This article discusses the author’s views on allowing children to play unsupervised in a safe environment, countering the concerns of nosy neighbors and potential authorities. With details about her own childhood experiences and her children’s playtime rules, the author advocates for the importance of independent play for kids, while providing links to relevant fertility and parenting resources.