Last week we were doing a COVID safe, outdoor play date with a mom-friend and her three daughters (ages 2, 4 & 6. My daughter is seven). It was nearly two hours of chilly (for the parents) play time for the kids (they could have had no coats and been wearing shorts and not noticed). It was great to some outside, friend playtime.
It ended with the six-year-old sliding on a patch of ice and ramming into my daughter. My daughter took a quick trip to the ground and slammed her face on the ice.
I do not want my daughter to get hurt. I do not want her to slam her face on the ice. Yet, she needs to be outside playing. She needs to be running around and enjoying chilly days and playing with friends. When kids play, kids may get hurt. She was crying and there was blood on her face. Her reaction reflects my reaction. *Stay calm*. I made sure she was ok. Checked for loose teeth. Any cuts. Broken bones.
Then let her cry. Let her know it would hurt more because of the cold. Told her it was unfortunate that she got hurt (did not say, “I’m glad you are okay”, or anything along those lines, because in that moment she wasn’t ok, even though she was “ok”). I asked if she thought it was an accident, or if her friend did it on purpose. She said her friend could have moved, or warned her, but she was sliding on ice and it was an accident.
A few minutes later she calmed down and got over the shock and moment of pain. We talked about being outside, playing around, getting to be with her friends. I asked if the moment of accident was worth the two hours of play. “Yeah. It was”, she responded.
She would not have gotten her if we had not been outside. She would not have been standing there in that moment. Yet, she is going to get hurt. It was an opportunity to let her know it is okay to cry and feel what she was feeling in the moment. Scared. Hurt. Shocked. Surprised. That it is better to be outside playing, then inside in front of a screen. Exploring. Playing. Inventing. Laughing.
She is going to get hurt and I’m not going to be around. It was an opportunity to support, but not baby her. It was an opportunity to focus on the positive. Not the negative. It was an opportunity to reinforce sometimes, the play is worth the pain.
I want her to slip and fall. To fall out of trees. Scrap her knees. That means she is learning. Doing. Exploring. The world is not going to treat her any differently than anyone else. I am not always going to be there when she falls. My job is not to teach her to run to me every time something happens. My job is help her learn the tools to help herself for those times she does fall.
I will not always be around. My job is to make sure she does not need me to be. The heartbreaking reality of any good parent.
Posted. Not Perfect.
A Vegan Father, navigating a non-vegan world.
A Better Father 