There’s a little ditty going around for your status bar on Facebook that goes like this:
My curfew was the street lights, and my mom didn’t call my cell, she yelled “time to come in”. I played outside with friends, not online. If I didn’t eat what my mom made me, then I didn’t eat. Hand sanitizer didn’t exist, but you COULD get your mouth washed out with soap. I rode a bike without a helmet. And getting dirty was OK. Re-post if you drank water from a garden hose and survived.
I’m old enough to remember this type of kid’s life and still believe that getting dirty is a kid’s job and cleaning it up is their parent’s job. That being said, I’m not against child-proofing or improved safety regulations. When my grandson was very little, at that stage where they crawl-toddle, we had pine frame furniture with cushions. Edges were hard and he would invariably bump into them. We resolved this by duct taping exercise mats around the furniture to protect his noggin. It looked deplorable but was efficient. Another use for duct tape I am sure the inventor never thought of.
The scariest child thing (in hindsight) I ever did and one I prayed my child would never think of was going with a few of my friends and climbing the pine trees in a grove behind our house. Not too bad you say? We used boards to begin our climb but when we got up high enough, we started shimmying up the tree until we reached a point where the tree would sway. There we would look all over the surrounding neighborhood and swing the tree back and forth like a pendulum. Loads of fun that would have caused a heart attack had I ever seen my own son attempt anything like it. I never broke a bone during my childhood and obviously lived through it, though I did get the wind knocked out of me falling off of one of those board ladders up the tree.