Score 1 for Un-helicopter-ing

My generation has a bad reputation for being helicopter parents.  We’re always hovering around our offspring, making sure they don’t fall, and don’t get hurt (physically or otherwise). We busy ourselves coordinating play-dates and after-school activities to keep them occupied. We fight (tooth and nail!) to get our children into the best schools, the top ballet class, and the most competitive dive team. We’re over-involved at their schools, with their sports, and in their lives.

My husband and I made a conscious effort when our first was born, to buck this new trend. You see, along with not exactly being trendy people, we’re not big fans of the “bubble children” these helicopter parents tend to produce. 

Bubble children grow up without ever knowing the joy of a true win (not a win where everyone wins), without knowing the pain of a hard-fought loss. They have ups (but not true ups) without ever knowing the downs. Some, we have had the opportunity to watch blossom into adults; adults who, after having grown up being told they are the best and brightest thing that the world has ever seen, actually believe it.

I’m all for encouraging a good self esteem. But a warped one?

So, to avoid raising bubble-children of our own, rather than helicoptering, we enjoyed sitting back, watching our little ones explore, get dirty, learn, and be amazed. On their own.

The joy in their eyes climbing a tree was not deterred by the scrapes incurred when slipping. It only made the climb the next time more exciting!

Some of my helicopter buddies may chide me for “allowing” my children to get hurt. While I don’t revel in their pain, I do believe that a little dirt and a couple of scrapes are all a part of childhood. If I see a dirty child, I know in my heart, that they've had a good time getting that way.

Now, fast forward a bit, and we have a decision to make over the course of this year. Our little guy is at the tail end of the enrollment calendar for school, and we’re trying to figure out which course of action would be best. If we let him go, we’re pretty much ensuring that he’ll be the youngest, and, due to his genes, the smallest student in the class. If we hold him back, we might present him with the equally unfortunate opportunity of being a year older than his peers, completely bored out of his skull. 

This is not a decision we take lightly, and it weighs on me. I worry about my guy… he’s soft spoken, and emotional. Maybe this is a sign he won’t be ready for Kindergarten in a year?

The other day, though, we watched an interaction which was made possible by our lack of helicoptoring, and one which I believe will be a factor in our upcoming decision.

The kiddos were happily playing together on a crowded playground, and we watched them from our perch on a bench, far from the action. A little boy, older than my little guy, but younger than the oldest, began playing “with” them. Unfortunately his was a game of “whatever you want to do I will do the opposite and see how long it takes to annoy you”.

We watched as our children navigated this situation. They were getting frustrated, that I could tell. I wasn’t a big fan of this little boy, but he wasn’t causing any harm, and honestly, he was just being a kid, pushing some buttons. Our oldest “fought back” with her actions, silently (her passive-aggressive-tendencies are a strong trait!). 

Then the youngest one, the one I’m concerned about getting crushed because he’s just so little, and so sweet, stepped forward towards the boy. The look in his eye was a one of complete anger, but he remained calm.

The little boy again, pushed the buttons of my oldest, and the youngest took another step forward, looked up at him in the eye, and said strongly and clearly, “STOP. HURTING. MY. SISTER.”

The boy, taken aback by someone half his size standing up to him, looked around (as if to see if there would be any witnesses), and then, simply stopped.

My little guy continued his stare of disdain, and the little boy decided that this was the opportunity to move on.

Now, if I had been helicoptering, it is possible that this interaction would never have taken place – either because the little boy would never have played his game with an adult nearby, or, I may have stepped in when the “game” stepped into the realm of “just plain mean”. But either way, my little guy would never have known his own inner strength, never have had the opportunity to prove himself.  He used his words, just as he was taught to do. He spoke up to protect himself and his family. He expressed himself. He was heard, and most importantly, he was understood. 

Although this interaction alone doesn't prove that he’ll be ready for school next September, it does give me hope that our Unhelicoptering is working, that we are raising children who are strong and kind and confident; children who will one day grow into adults I’d like to share a cup of coffee with.

“A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary” – Dorothy Canfield Fisher