When I was younger, I've had the privilege of getting to play outside either through the streets of my neighborhood, or out by the river bank upstate. But get this: my mother was no where to be found. Shocking, right? I can already see the angry parents with pitchforks and torches outside my mother's door. Fortunately for me, my mother was never a "helicopter parent" (which is a phrase I'll get to in a few, I promise). I was allowed to roam the streets with my friends, and walk around with the town kids, I was allowed to build make-shift tree swings, all while my mom was at home, watching TV, cooking dinner, or doing whatever else suited her fancy. It's not that she didn't care about me or my whereabouts - in fact, it's quite the opposite. She always incorporated independent development into my childhood. For instance, when we went to a deli, pizza place, or drugstore, she'd give me the money to buy my things and had me go to the cashier myself. My mom encouraged my own independent playtime and social time because she knew it was an essential part of growing up.
Hanna Rosin, author of "The Overprotected Kid", said that, "children have a sensory need to taste danger and excitement". Rosin talks about unsupervised risky play and how playing alone in an open environment is needed for a child to fully develop and overcome fears without their parents looming over them all the time. I completely agree, and my childhood experience is a prime example of that. While I'll spare you ALL the details of my very adventurous childhood, I will tell you about what I feel is the most important: playing with fire. Even Rosin explains that fire is not necessarily a bad thing for children to be around. In fact, it actually can help them learn control and responsibility. I have had many experiences with fire growing up. My family has a summer home upstate. It's a tiny two room house built by my great grandfather with no heat and electricity only during the warm weather. Fire was a big part of my summer experience because without fire we'd be freezing our toes off in 30 and 40 degree weather when the sun went down. I had to learn at an early age how to start a fire in our fire-burning oven, and how to maintain one in both the small oven and the giant fire pit out in the backyard. One time, while my mother was on the other side of the house getting a barbecue ready for dinner, I decided that I'd invite my friends from the town over to the fire pit so we could have a barbecue of our own. I told my mom I was heading out, and went to all my friend's houses. Soon enough I had a group of kids from the neighborhood following me to my backyard. All my mom said was, "have fun, be careful!" So with my little group, we took sticks and marshmallows (all the hot dogs were being used by my mom) and went down to the fire pit. I added some small sticks to the fire in addition to the few logs in there from the night before, then put some paper plates and cardboard just like I've seen my mom and grandpa do a bunch of times. We stuck marshmallows on long skinny twigs and roasted them over the fire. At one point, my marshmallow was melting off my stick and was going to fall into the fire. So, with my child thought process, I decided that I really needed to save my delicious treat from falling into the fire. I caught the red-hot marshmallow, hit my arm on the edge of the fire pit, and got a burn on the side of my arm as a result. My friends thought they were going to get in trouble, so they were all running home within a few seconds of the incident. I towed my stick up the hill to my mom and told her what happened. I didn't cry, I didn't want my mom to think that I was too much of a baby for the fire pit. My mom just sighed, told me that now I know what not to do around a fire, and then wrapped my arm in a bandage with soothing cream on it. Nothing else from her; no scolding, no lecture, just a shrug and a simple exchanging of words. The burn on my arm didn't kill me, nor did it cause some life shattering problem. It was just a burn and I learned not to go too close to the edge of the metal fire pit.
My little fire fiasco as a kid growing up was something that I felt was dangerous, as well as exciting. I was controlling something that could hurt me. It was scary and rewarding. When I started to get a little too comfortable around fire, I learned my lesson. I don't cower and hide around a candle or a flame, and I still continue to spend my time upstate around that fire pit. Unsupervised risky play is essential to a child's development. Exposing children to simple "dangers" won't suddenly kill them or have some terrible effects on them. It teaches them how to be responsible, and how to handle themselves around dangerous (and not so dangerous) situations. Being around fire, I learned what to do and what not to do, how to start it, put it out, lower the flames, and stop it from smoking too much. I've gotten tons of burns, and it hasn't induced an uncontrollable fear of fire (unlike some children I know who are only scared because their parent's never let them go near it). Because of my experience, I am more independent and I know how to take care of myself when my mom can't be there, and probably most importantly I know not to save my drooping marshmallows from their fiery fate.
A very important part of my experience was the fact that my mom didn't overreact. It's not that she didn't care enough to freak out, because she did in fact care a lot. The main reason why I don't make a scene whenever things don't go my way or whenever I get a little bruise is because my mom taught me to handle small problems on my own, and that complaining and seeking extreme attention will get you nowhere. I see this especially when I think about the way my aunt treats my cousin. Growing up, I'd always witness my aunt overreacting over my cousin's every scrape and cut as though it was the end of the world. My cousin picked up on the attention that her mother gave her every time little things went wrong, and would make a big scene every time something happened. She'd trip and fall and be crying for hours as her mom did everything from getting ice to getting her ice cream just to calm her down. Everything was the end of the world for my cousin, and she knew that if she cried and depended on her mother, eventually she'd get what she wanted. Now starting high school, she has had a rude awakening as she realized that the world does not revolve around her and her every need. This dependance she developed for her mom has inhibited her ability to take care of herself and handle situations maturely and independently. My mom's nurturing yet calm reaction to my fire incident taught me how to fix myself up if I get hurt, and that it's not the end of the world if I get a little burn. My mother went back to allowing me to play alone, which was important because I was allowed to socialize and test out different social skills by myself without having to depend on her to help me make friends or to solve issues (unlike my aunt, who called the parents of whoever made my cousin mad that day, and solved the issues for her).
Unsupervised risky play is absolutely a necessary tool for children to grow and develop. Without allowing children to make decisions socially and allow them to explore their environment on their own, they are coddled into depending on their parents and are uneducated in fixing their own situations without relying on the help of others. Specifically fire, because in the right environment fire is a great way to help kids learn responsibility and make them feel like they are in control of a task. The only downside to fire is they could get burned, but no normal child would continuously keep putting their hand over the fire after the first time it happens (trust me, I am proof that children are smarter than you think when they learn firsthand just how hot fire is). So parents, do me a favor and let your kids off their leash for a while. Let them explore and play by themselves with other children. Don't hover over them and act like the world is collapsing when they get a minor cut. If they do something stupid, chances are they learned their lesson and wont do it again, so no need to try to take it away from them (it'll only make them want it/want to do it more, I promise you). And finally, trust your kids. They don't need to have their hands held throughout their entire life. They can take care of themselves, trust me.
Even after the marshmallow disaster, I still spend time with my neighborhood friends at that fire pit to talk and have a good time, especially before going off to college. In fact, I'll probably be back there in a week or so too before the snow falls to catch up with them about school, drama, life, and really good s'mores.
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