Be Brave, Be Safe

I try my hardest not to be THAT mom.

THAT mom helicoptering over her child at the park.

I'm getting much better at it. When William was younger, he wanted to climb on everything. Every time we were at the park, my anxiety would shoot through the roof. In my mind I saw every way that he would get hurt. 

These days there are times where I will even sit back on the benches. (They MUST be there for something, right?)

Since the day that boy was born, no far before that, I've thought about how to raise him. How to not screw him up is probably more accurate. I have had plenty of opportunities to do so in his short three years. 

One of those moments happened this morning.

Will likes to help me put the dishes away from the dishwasher. His favorite part is sorting the utensils. 

He was getting in his little fork-sorting groove when he picks up a steak knife. He knows that these are sharp, and he is usually not allowed to touch them. 

He instantly realizes what's wrong and looks at me with that panicked, "help mom" look, that a child perfects. 

Now you should know that William is an incredibly sensitive little boy. He picks up on others' feelings, and will take everything personally. So when he looks at me, scared, and worried he's doing something wrong, I know this was a delicate moment. 

"Mommy, I got a sharp knife!"

"Yes, you do"

"What do I do?"

"You need to be brave, and you need to be careful."

So he hands me the knife, carefully, by the handle, with confidence.

I sat there for a little bit, and I knew that this was one of those lessons I want him to learn, one that I hope he has many chances to learn. 

So William, (and Tatum) if you ever get a chance to read this, I want you to know:

Be careful. Think things through. Make good decisions. 

Be brave.