So, the other day on my personal Facebook page, I wrote this:
It was by far one of the most liked statuses that didn't involve my kids in quite sometime.
But it was true.
Now, as a mom of a child with special needs, I have to say, don't start attacking me about the fact that there's kids out there with poor dexterity, blah, blah, blah. The solution is simple- if it's too difficult for your kid, try something else. Try Perfection, or puzzles to help with fine motor skills, if they're young. I didn't try operation until Alex was much older than the 6 year age on the box. Be smart.
The people who commented agreed, too, stating that we are in an era of every kid being a winner, and others who expresses how sad it is that *this* is our future.
What happened to allowing your kids to play with worms, get skinned knees, and mud in their hair?
I consider myself an old school mom.. because I care about my kids, but I don't coddle my kids. They're going to get scraped, dirty, and germy. They're kids. It's their criteria. If they're exploring the world, and learning how to become well rounded individuals, they're not going to be clean, hand-sanitized, freaks who are a little too obsessive about scootering on the flat part of the sidewalk, and picking up the scooter every time there's a crack. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD PEOPLE?! If your kid does this, you need to shake them... or yourself. When we were kids, the world was different, yes. I'm not saying let your kids play unsupervised and shout from the door when it's time for little Johnny to come in and wash up- but let your kids play. Let them play hard. I start twitching every time little Janey up the road (she's not really named Janey) plays with my daughter.
Abbie loves to climb trees (in her dresses), and she digs in the dirt with her bare hands, and she likes to scooter up the sidewalk and doesn't flinch over the cracks. She's experiencing life.
When she falls and scrapes her leg, we don't run over and carry her in (unless she's really bad, c'mon, I'm not that cruel), we make her hobble in, and help her clean it. Then we snuggle on the couch, or she goes back out to play. The same way my mom did for me.
In the 70's, I might have been called a "refrigerator mom" because of the way strangers might perceive me in situations similar to that above. I would much rather be considered a Refrigerator Mom than a "Helicopter Mom"... At least then, I'd still be cool.