The Death Trap (or... the playground and the overprotective parent)

Hello my little one!

It's time we talked about the playground.

The day before you popped out

When you were in my belly, your daddy and I spoke about our biggest fears about parenthood... the things that we wished with all our might that we would not be. My biggest fear was that I would be too overprotective. You'd end up socially inept, lacking in confidence and vitamin D deficient because I'd keep you inside, wrapped in a snowsuit (solely for its padded properties) for the first ten years of your life. On the plus side, you'd probably be great at your seventeen times-tables. Being overprotective is something that I can see would be very easy to fall into, and something that my anxiety-ridden, catastrophising mind kind of leans itself towards... so it is constantly a part of my consciousness to give you freedom, to let you fall, to get frustrated so that you can feel the elation at solving a problem yourself. I wonder if you will laugh at this later on when you read this... I wonder what kind of parent I will be when you are sixteen years old...

Ok. So onto the playground.

The deadly stones

There are two playgrounds that we frequent. One of them is just gorgeous, in the middle of the beautiful gardens of a grand villa on the lake, with lots of fun things for you: A big scary slide, some swings, a climbing frame, some wooden houses to play in, a dirt-pit (people in Switzerland don't know sand, it seems!), some bouncy animals and a merry-go-round style rope swing (hmm that's hard to explain). Not too much wrong here, but then you take into account the fact that the ground is not grass or sand, but stones. I wasn't able to take you here for the first 14 months of your life, because the most fun thing in the world was to attempt to choke yourself on these stones. If you did get one in your mouth and I discovered it, you'd throw your head back, open your mouth and start laughing hysterically.... and you were obviously only a moment away from death by playground.

Now, that's the best playground! Because the other one? Yowsers.

You, starting to get worried about being stuck... about to climb up further...

The other playground, next the where the ferry leaves, is more of an adventure playground. It has woodchips, sand or grass on the ground (better!), has a fun set of channels with a fountain so you can make dams, float sticks, experiment with floating and sinking objects, and splash about in the water. In the winter, it's turned off, so you are left with the pirate ship to explore, along with lots of rope ladders and climbing frames. The pirate ship is very high, at least two metres, and has big open edges for you to topple over when you are looking behind you, or when another child gets annoyed and shoves you. It has benches for you to climb on and topple over the top when you lose your footing. And worse? It is impossible for me to get up there too. I currently can't lift one arm, so when you recently got stuck up the bench and couldn't get down, I gave you a while to figure it out and then, when it looked like it was just not going to happen and you became more and more scared, when you began to consider the option of falling over the edge instead, I just had to get up there. I scrambled up the side, scratching my elbows, bruising my hips and knees, bashing my head, envisioning your little neck snapping as it hit the ground... and then, of course, when I finally got up there, there you were, having rescued yourself.

The super-fun water channels 

Playground politics are tough. There are these terms that float about: The 'helicopter parent', who is always there, ready to 'help', never allowing their children to struggle. There is the 'couch parent', who just sits by and watches as their kids struggle and never gets involved to play with them or help when they really need. There is the 'free-range parent', who allows their children to explore independently, while hopefully raising them to know that they are capable, while also being able to ask for help from mum or dad. Everything has a label now. I try to be a free-range kind of parent, but I also just love actively playing with you, so I suppose you're more of a corn-fed child than a free-range one...

Leaving you to be a free-range boy.

Now lets wait for some black ice to throw itself into the mix... yikes! Deep breath, Mummy... :)

I love you soooo much, Possum!

Love, Mummy.