I talk (and sometimes write) a good game, but in the end, I am, as usual, a fraud.
Midday, I expounded on the virtues of parenting in a courageous, bold way, full of determination and conviction.
By 3:30, it was all a distant memory.
When I got Sarah from school, she immediately began talking about how after her birthday party--which is about 3 months away!--she wanted to have some friends stay over. Possibly for a slumber party, maybe just to watch a movie. I don't have a problem with this, if the other parents are agreeable and as long as the number of kids is manageable (three at the most?!).
But then she started talking about wanting to walk to school--which she technically could do. I KNOW Lynda doesn't want her walking to school. I am a bit hesitant about it--even though I was doing that at her age, and walking farther in comparison. I didn't say NO, just that I would talk to mom and we both needed to be in agreement (a parental safety valve, or cop out if you will). I guarantee that she won't be walking to school the remainder of this year. Sarah said "but I'm EIGHT!" with all the conviction that an eight-year-old who has been sheltered and provided for can muster. ("But you're MY DAUGHTER!" I might have replied out loud, though she wouldn't really understand what I meant.)
I deflected a bit by bringing up the fact that I'd be more comfortable if she rode her bike to school, though I know full well that she isn't able to ride her bike hardly at all. With training wheels, she's competent, but of course the EIGHT-year-old is getting slightly embarrassed by the presence of training wheels. I agree that this should be a bit embarrassing, remembering full well that I wasn't comfortable on my bike until long PAST eight-years-old (again . . . FRAUD!). So, she took her training wheels off recently (when I wasn't there) and her lack of immediate success has resulted in not trying to ride her bike at all since.
So, her bike sits, and sits, and sits. I tell her that she'll NEVER get on it and succeed if she doesn't begin to try. But the spectre of falling is an ever present danger. And I don't want to be the bad guy, so I don't push her and so nothing is resolved.
It's this cycle of bicycle neglect that has put my afternoon/early evening in such a depressing mood.
So much for courage, conviction, bold action.
FRAUD!
1 comment:
Nope. Not a fraud. Not a fraud!
She will learn to ride that bike. There's no time limit. Stevie will get out of pull-ups one day.
I wouldn't let her walk to school, either. Stevie can't walk to his nearby school (1/4 mile, maybe?), and I wouldn't let him even if we did have decent sidewalks. (And yes, he asked.) Is it a different world than when we were kids? Maybe, maybe not. But when it comes to my kids, I'm going with different.
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