raising children in captivity
Mothers are afraid to let their children play out in the snow because they may get hurt/catch cold - news item today.
OMG. Snow is (if you are a child) provided for fun and games. We sledged down a steep bank with a beck at the bottom. Did anyone ever go into the beck? Of course not. We built snow forts and defended them with snowballs. Fair enough, I'm too old to be a baby boomer and parents didn't worry about the things they do now and we raked around outdoors most of the time. We knew the village perv. And avoided him. But even my generation's children played in the snow, went off on bike rides, and did all sorts of activities with organised groups that would be frowned on today (Venta learned to handle a rifle safely in a scout group and played tiggy in canoes on the Upper Tyne, though I'm glad I knew about that afterwards.)
But then, I was not a jailer mum. It took me a long time to realise that most of what I was not allowed to do, up to and including student days, was anything which might worry my mother and by that time any spirit of adventure had been amputated. So, I went to the other extreme and encouraged every chance of independence and adventure. Eventually, I got a terrible ear bashing from a fellow mother for allowing my daughter to go off, by train, alone to a university interview involving an overnight stay. It proved a nightmare train trip, in pre-mobile phone days, and, yes, I was nearly frantic by the time I got the "I've arrived" phonecall but, student days over. it was the other mother's daughter who was ringing home every night from her first job, lost, homesick, lonely and friendless. Mine was having a great life, loads of friends, travel, and many things I'd love to have done. I can, however, say that a call saying, "I went paragliding yesterday" was a lot better than the one I didn't get saying, "I'm going paragliding tomorrow."
Go on, mums, put their anoraks and wellies on, stick their hands in gloves, and let them go out and enjoy the snow. It'd be a start.
OMG. Snow is (if you are a child) provided for fun and games. We sledged down a steep bank with a beck at the bottom. Did anyone ever go into the beck? Of course not. We built snow forts and defended them with snowballs. Fair enough, I'm too old to be a baby boomer and parents didn't worry about the things they do now and we raked around outdoors most of the time. We knew the village perv. And avoided him. But even my generation's children played in the snow, went off on bike rides, and did all sorts of activities with organised groups that would be frowned on today (Venta learned to handle a rifle safely in a scout group and played tiggy in canoes on the Upper Tyne, though I'm glad I knew about that afterwards.)
But then, I was not a jailer mum. It took me a long time to realise that most of what I was not allowed to do, up to and including student days, was anything which might worry my mother and by that time any spirit of adventure had been amputated. So, I went to the other extreme and encouraged every chance of independence and adventure. Eventually, I got a terrible ear bashing from a fellow mother for allowing my daughter to go off, by train, alone to a university interview involving an overnight stay. It proved a nightmare train trip, in pre-mobile phone days, and, yes, I was nearly frantic by the time I got the "I've arrived" phonecall but, student days over. it was the other mother's daughter who was ringing home every night from her first job, lost, homesick, lonely and friendless. Mine was having a great life, loads of friends, travel, and many things I'd love to have done. I can, however, say that a call saying, "I went paragliding yesterday" was a lot better than the one I didn't get saying, "I'm going paragliding tomorrow."
Go on, mums, put their anoraks and wellies on, stick their hands in gloves, and let them go out and enjoy the snow. It'd be a start.