All along I’ve been letting him go. When he was a baby, I let our friends take him to the mall. We encourage him to order his own soft pretzel or nuggets. I ask him if he could go to the deli and place the order for the sandwich meats. And today, I’m letting him walk home from the library by himself. I’m letting him go slowly.
He’s nine now. You can see the library from our house. And if you were to go the long way, down the street, across, down the street, across, you’d pass the sheriff’s office. The great big cross walk we use is well traversed. And he’s seen Big Bird get yelled at for not crossing at the sidewalk. Gordon said, there may not be a next time Big Bird. Hopefully, Eamon will look both ways.
This morning, I knew that he may need some alone time with me. Little girl went to daycare. He reached out to hold my hand on the way to the bank en route to the library. And then I let him go. Because his coping ability will depend on his trust in himself and his capabilities. That is my gift to him.
The opposite is true too. Were I to not allow him to go out and discover who he is and what he’s capable of, he’d think I was saying he was incapable. Sometimes mothers forget what their job really is. And as I re-parent myself these days, I am aware of what he needs to fly to his freedom.
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