Okay, sorry, excuse me a moment. It’s been awhile, I think, since I told you just how effing amazing my kid is. Seriously. So, indulge me here, will you.
One wouldn’t really say that little S is given to corporeal risk. As an infant, she wouldn’t roll over until she was good and sure that she really really really could. It took seven months. She was sitting before she was rolling.
Stella took her first steps when she was just shy of a year, but then, for the next three months, she steadfastly refused to walk unassisted ever again. This, despite an intensive Walking For Pre-Walkers program instituted my father. She's careful and cautious and weary of bumps and bruises.
Stella has never even entertained the thought of climbing onto a surface that is higher than six inches off the ground. She would never dream of scaling the bookshelf or jumping out of her crib, or even stepping onto a raised surface without holding my hand. Still now at 19 months, she believes that she needs my assistance to get up on the couch, and my supervision to get down off my bed. She is like her mother: timid, hesitant, clumsy. Fairly the antithesis of sportive.
But this weekend. This weekend she simultaneously amazed and scared the shit out of me. Perhaps it was the unseasonably warm weather, or the frenetic, late afternoon energy generated by half a million children in the playground. Or maybe it was the doughnut. And cake. And several sips of my double tall mocha. Whatever it was, Stella was fortified. She clambered up the steps of the play structure, alone, for the first time ever.
Feet firmly planted on the ground, I encouraged her to slide down the baby slide. She considered it a moment, and then shook her head no. Nononononononono and was off, ascending to the pinnacle, intent on planting her flag and bragging to the other toddlers about her feat of mountaineering genius. I watched, heart in my throat, as she eyed the windy, big kid slide. A gaggle of children was now forming behind her as Miss S debated her next course of action. I swear my heart stopped beating, as I pictured her losing her balance and tumbling down, shattering at once her brain and her confidence. And I may or may not have shrieked, “OMG SOMEONE HELP HER!!! to the clueless kids at her back who obviously had no idea what I was yelling in English, while I paced like a madwoman below, calmly (frantically) reassuring my kid that, “It’s okay! You’re fine! Just slide down!” Other parents looked on bemused, or slightly uninterested.
But then she did it. She sat. Then shoved off, and slid down. By herself. Like a big girl. She was so happy, she jumped down and clapped her hands and beamed. Positively glowed. And this was, perhaps, one of my proudest parenting moments.
All photos were taken, obviously, well before I started pooping my pants because MAH BAYBEE IS UP SO HIGH AND IS BREAKABLE AND WAH!
And now, blah blah blah something insightful and heartfelt about how we should let go of our kids and encourage them to explore and blah blah whatever blah MY KID IS SO BRAVE AND COOL AND FUNNY AND I LOVE HER! Now, how 'bout a vote, hey? Down here. Just click.