Parent Confession: I Was A Leasher
01.04.09
“Cars don’t have eyes,” I said in a gentle voice, crouching down at her level and making eye contact.
A guest blog
by Kate Stevenson
I was a leasher.
There was a period of about 6 months when my daughter was a pain in the arse. She did not want to hold hands. Nononno. She did not want to be in the stroller. Nononnonno. She was also known to run off without the slightest warning towards the most likely thing to kill her. So I got a leash.
At this point in my life, I was lurking on the Internet a lot. There was a well-known crunchy message board I was on. From this board I learnt that I was being a lazy parent and treating my kid like a dog. Determined to get better at taking criticism, I sniffed and read on. According to the posters on this board, I needed to teach her to stay put. She didn’t know because I hadn’t taught her!
OMG. A flash went off in my mind.
The next day, I started The Training.
All I had to do was explain about the cars not being able to see her.
I started hanging out with her in the parking lot. “Cars don’t have eyes,” I said in a gentle voice, crouching down at her level and making eye contact. I pointed at the fender and then at her head.
“See? NO EYES. You have eyes, you can see. They don’t have eyes, they can’t see! And look how big it is! Too big to see you!”
She had the look of a 16 month old who can tell her mummy really wants her to understand something.
Next it was the sidewalk (people with eyes) vs the road (cars with no eyes). “Stay on the sidewalk” I reiterated quite a few times, actually. “Road – cars! NO EYES. No SEE.”
Another poster said that in fact, if I let her run, I’d discover that she’d only run a few metres from me because there’s this magical safety zone that toddlers won’t run past out of the safety of their mothers. It’s a survival instinct.
So yeah, either way, I was totally covered.
Okay, I thought. I'll give it a try.
We went to the park, unleashed. We were in the middle of it. It was a pretty big park.
She started running. I sat on the bench, smugly sure she'd stop.
1 metre
2 metres poof magical safety zone survival instinct
3 metres.
She ran out of the park, ACROSS THE STREET and onto the other side of the street behind houses out of my eyesight.
Laughing the whole time.
Me running and screaming behind her.
Fortunately there were no eye-less cars steaming down the road that day. Fortunately I’m much taller than my daughter and I caught her before she got to the main road, which was only 2 blocks on.
I went back to the board and posted. Then I deleted. Then I re-posted. Then I deleted. Then I finally wrote
MY KID IS A RUNNER!!! I’m USING THE LEASH!
So, I dunno. Maybe for a few months my kid was like a dog. Or was a dog. Considering we share 90 something percent of our genes with earthworms, it could be possible. I have a yorkie puppy now and he does exactly the same thing.
But as suddenly as she used to like running towards cars or pitbulls, MB stopped. And started listening. And holding my hand.
There was a period of about 6 months when my daughter was a pain in the arse. She did not want to hold hands. Nononno. She did not want to be in the stroller. Nononnonno. She was also known to run off without the slightest warning towards the most likely thing to kill her. So I got a leash.
At this point in my life, I was lurking on the Internet a lot. There was a well-known crunchy message board I was on. From this board I learnt that I was being a lazy parent and treating my kid like a dog. Determined to get better at taking criticism, I sniffed and read on. According to the posters on this board, I needed to teach her to stay put. She didn’t know because I hadn’t taught her!
OMG. A flash went off in my mind.
The next day, I started The Training.
All I had to do was explain about the cars not being able to see her.
I started hanging out with her in the parking lot. “Cars don’t have eyes,” I said in a gentle voice, crouching down at her level and making eye contact. I pointed at the fender and then at her head.
“See? NO EYES. You have eyes, you can see. They don’t have eyes, they can’t see! And look how big it is! Too big to see you!”
She had the look of a 16 month old who can tell her mummy really wants her to understand something.
Next it was the sidewalk (people with eyes) vs the road (cars with no eyes). “Stay on the sidewalk” I reiterated quite a few times, actually. “Road – cars! NO EYES. No SEE.”
Another poster said that in fact, if I let her run, I’d discover that she’d only run a few metres from me because there’s this magical safety zone that toddlers won’t run past out of the safety of their mothers. It’s a survival instinct.
So yeah, either way, I was totally covered.
Okay, I thought. I'll give it a try.
We went to the park, unleashed. We were in the middle of it. It was a pretty big park.
She started running. I sat on the bench, smugly sure she'd stop.
1 metre
2 metres poof magical safety zone survival instinct
3 metres.
She ran out of the park, ACROSS THE STREET and onto the other side of the street behind houses out of my eyesight.
Laughing the whole time.
Me running and screaming behind her.
Fortunately there were no eye-less cars steaming down the road that day. Fortunately I’m much taller than my daughter and I caught her before she got to the main road, which was only 2 blocks on.
I went back to the board and posted. Then I deleted. Then I re-posted. Then I deleted. Then I finally wrote
MY KID IS A RUNNER!!! I’m USING THE LEASH!
So, I dunno. Maybe for a few months my kid was like a dog. Or was a dog. Considering we share 90 something percent of our genes with earthworms, it could be possible. I have a yorkie puppy now and he does exactly the same thing.
But as suddenly as she used to like running towards cars or pitbulls, MB stopped. And started listening. And holding my hand.