Henry fell out of a tree today.
Yes, that's right, I let my children climb trees. They need it. They need to climb, to explore, to discover, to leave the ground behind and reach for the sky. That being said, it was a very short tree and he fell only about three feet to the grass and bark dust.
He cried, of course, more from the terror of falling than an actual injury. I held him and cuddled him and stroked his hair, and within a few minutes he was running to a much larger tree, wanting me to help him up. I do draw the line at tall trees for Henry right now, although Rowan likes to climb them. For the rest of our time in the park, I kept wondering if someone would call CPS on me.
They didn't, or at least no one's showed up yet, but I could see the headline in my mind's eye: "Crazy Mother Lets Children Frolic In Dangerous Trees." I let my children have experiences that might hurt them. I let them explore and discover that some things are really not good ideas. I obviously try to keep them from anything that might be fatal or permanently injurious.
I really don't think that sheltering children from everything that could hurt them is a good idea. "The burned hand learns best," as Gandalf said. It's far better for them to learn their strengths and limitations while still in our care, rather than going crazy at age 18 and trying to stuff in all the cool child things they never got to do.
Jumping topic, someone messaged me today and said that she's having a very hard time dealing with an illness. An atrociously bad time, in fact. This person does not live close to me, so I'm feeling very lost about how to help her. Any suggestions would be appreciated.
Do you ever feel like the world is moving too fast to comprehend, and think if you could just slow down one day, you'd be fine? That's how I feel. I keep thinking, if Matthew and I could just have one day off together with no children, we might actually be able to relax for a few hours. That doesn't seem feasible with Sunday being the only day Matthew doesn't work.
I'm tired, and I can't think of what else to write, so I'm giving you this lame ending:
Good night; sleep well.
May naught disturb your slumbers.
In quietness take your rest
And let gentle night surround you.