He sat down, pretzel in one hand and lemonade in the other. He fit perfectly on the small ledge, his feet easily touched the ground. “I’ll wait out here,” he said through a mouthful of pretzel.
“Mmmm. No. You better come inside with me.”
“Why?”
“What if you get scared?”
“I’m not scared. I want to finish my pretzel.”
We were at the mall, standing in the hallway outside Williams-Sonoma. I wanted to buy a toaster oven. He wanted to sit outside on the ledge and eat his pretzel. We argued back and forth for a couple of minutes and then I told him the real reason I didn’t want to leave him alone outside the store.
“I’m afraid someone might take you.”
“What?” He scoffed, “Who would want to take me?”
He couldn’t fathom it. It had never occurred to him that there could be any sort of horrible person in the world who would want to do him harm. In my mind, however, it was more than a real possibility as I envisioned the monstrous person lurking in the shadows just watching and waiting to take advantage of the irresponsible mother who would leave her young son alone outside a store at the mall.
“You’re right. That’s silly. I’m going in the store. Come in and find me if you get nervous.”
The opportunity was there but I didn’t take it. It’s what the parenting experts refer to as a teachable moment in which I could have told my four-year old about “stranger danger.” I didn’t do it. I didn’t want to. I loved that he was feeling independent. I loved that he wasn’t afraid of people and that he felt safe in the world. I didn’t want to rob him of all that right there on that day at the mall.
So, I went in the store alone and left him out on the ledge. I spied on him from behind the store displays. It was a weekday at the mall, populated mostly by moms with strollers and retired people. Many people walked by and most offered a smile or a friendly wave to the small boy sitting on the ledge calmly eating his pretzel and drinking lemonade. I half expected someone to stop and demand to know where his parent was.
I watched until he finished his pretzel. He got up from the ledge to throw his trash in the garbage. Then he sat back down and waited. When I came out of the store his face beamed with pride.
I didn’t get a toaster oven that day but as I left the mall holding hands with my young son, I was very grateful that I got something better. We both did. My son experienced real independence and I preserved his innocence for one more day.
Parenting is often like walking a tightrope between doing what we “should” do and doing what our instincts tell us to do. What are some of your examples?
The State of Motherhood 