If you're a parent, you've turned around and looked at your child at some point and said, "What the hell? That's my kid?" I usually say this when Annie is laying on the floor in a public place, screaming herself hoarse and kicking any walls within immediate reach. Today, I experienced this in a whole new way. While video taping her on this rope swing, I had two crystal clear thoughts: I love that she is bold enough to try this, and what on earth are her grandparents going to say?
Watching your two year-old run the length of a 75 foot trampoline and then jump into a totally foreign pit of gray and red foam brings up plenty of emotions: My children are growing so quickly. Where does the fear impulse come from? I'm so freaking proud of this person. Am I losing my mind letting her do this?
In the end, I try and make the bulk of my parenting decisions based on how well adjusted the girls will be after they either experience the sheer joy of success or the sheer agony of a broken ulna.
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