Watch What I Can Do

The person that came up with the idea of indoor trampoline parks is a downright genius.  They were probably the parent to a toddler as well.  Having a place to go when it’s cold and rainy with a kid that you literally have to remind at least once every 20 minutes that, “there’s no jumping on the bed; or the couch; or that chair; or the dog; for God’s sake if you jump on Tucker again he may bite you,” is a literal haven.  It actually makes a sane person think that installing a room consisting entirely of trampolines could only add to their property value.

So yesterday, even though I was having a rough morning getting myself going, I decided we weren’t going to spend the day in the house.  We made the drive there discussing why, “Daddy, took the internet to work with him,” Kennedy’s 3 year old explanation as to why her iPad wouldn’t connect in the car. The moment we parked and I unbuckled her car seat she was out and already maneuvering her skinny little arm in a way so that I couldn’t hold her hand in the parking lot.  “I’m a big girl, Mommy, I can do this myself.”  So I held her armpit.

Once we were settled and freed our piggys it was, “Mommy, watch what I can do.  Mommy, look at this cool trick!”  She was in her glory.  She climbed up on something to jump off but the whole time I tried to follow her over to it she kept stopping, turning around with her hand out to me as if she was stopping traffic and saying, “No, don’t follow me, I can do it myself.  You stay there.”

As she watched some kids hoist themselves up a short wall onto a platform she decided she could do that too.  I, unable at times to control myself as a hovering mother, kept trying to give her a boost.  She through a fit and asked me to stand away from her and just watch.  I did as I was told, but unhappily.  She made it up but scraped her little face on the rug all in an effort to show me she was independent; she could do it by herself.

Every chance she got she was doing something because she’s a ‘big girl’.  She needed to see how tall she is.  She wanted to show me she knew how to drive a car.  She needed to point out that the reason that kid kept knocking over her foam block wall was because, “he’s only little and doesn’t know how to play nice yet.”

She jumped around, her little tongue pushing against the inside of her cheek, a clear sign she thinks she’s super-cool, while I jumped with her.  But while I was jumping, I couldn’t help but think; this little girl with the mark on her cheek isn’t much different from her mama.  These last four months for me have been a series of struggling to do things that I don’t think look so hard because everyone else can do it just fine, telling people, “I’ve got it, I don’t need help.”  So here I am walking around with proverbial rug burns on my face, wondering why my kid won’t let anyone help her.

I have to try to make sure I am doing a better job modeling the behaviors I want her to feel are worth copying.  I need to let her see me allowing people to help me and explain to her that sometimes big kids, and grown-ups too, have to let people help them if they are having a tough time; that it is perfectly okay to make life a little easier for yourself once and a while. 

But the thing is too, it makes me proud, if not also a little sad, to see that at only 3 she has learned that even if you scrape your face on the rug from time to time, your skin is thicker than your realize and you can keep on playing.