My mother had a hands-off approach to parenting. She encouraged me to play outside while she engaged in her daily tasks—whether baking, tidying up, or chatting with friends. Back then, it was common for children to explore the outdoors while parents took care of their business.
Now, I watch my son stacking his blocks on the living room floor, sunlight glimmering in his bright green eyes as he squints and adjusts his position. He’s deep in conversation with himself, narrating the adventures of the castle he’s building, complete with a sleeping baby dragon and guardian fairy siblings.
Occasionally, I feel a pang of guilt. Should I be sitting with him, playing alongside or teaching him new things? Shouldn’t my presence on the floor affirm my love for him? But then I recall the freedom of my own childhood.
I often encourage my children to head outside, despite the wild animals that roam the surrounding woods. Just the other day, my daughter, who’s only 4, had a close encounter with a deer while playing in the garden. She was frightened yet thrilled, and it became an unforgettable experience. Yes, there are risks like coyotes and even the occasional bear. But I believe that if I keep them in a bubble, I’ll hinder their growth and decrease the richness of their experiences.
Society today promotes constant supervision, warning us to protect our children from every possible mishap. We’re told to create bubble-wrapped kids who look out at the world from a safe distance. However, in doing so, I fear we’re depriving them of valuable lessons and stories.
My husband once shared that, at a young age, he had an unfortunate accident while exploring the woods, and he made the questionable decision to treat his wound with dirt, just like the Native Americans. This led to a scar that he wears proudly, a reminder of a lesson learned and a story to tell.
Scars can serve as maps of our journeys. If we cushion our kids too much, their bodies may remain untouched, but their lives could lack direction and depth. I want them to feel exhilarated as they climb trees, navigate friendships, and make choices—both good and bad—without my interference.
I lived a life that my parents couldn’t fully oversee, and I want the same for my children—a life filled with adventure and the occasional scar.
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In summary, I believe in giving my children the freedom to explore and learn from their surroundings. While the world can be daunting, the lessons they learn through these experiences will shape them into resilient individuals.