Wednesday, August 14, 2013


So Lois was climbing over a box that's on a slight tilt. It's not wobbly or anything. However, she was climbing in a standing position, getting her about half again her normal height, holding onto something to steady herself that's relatively safe if not exactly stable.

I watched from about four feet away while she did this, lost in her own little world and not noticing the abject terror on my face. I was certain that at any second she would lose her balance, fall, smash her head into the ground (I assured that there was nothing around her that she could hit on the way down other than said ground) and be permanently damaged.

I watched.

That's all I did.

I didn't stop her. I didn't get her attention in any way. I even turned away when I thought she might notice my watching and stop what she was doing because now she had daddy's attention.

I let her explore the world a little bit. She stepped off the box then back on several times, climbed it again and again, then got down, turned away, and laughed at her own little time of fun.

Correct me if I'm wrong but I think that's my actual job. I think my job here is to raise her right (for whatever version of "right" we may have), stop her from actually hurting herself, love her, and let her do things that absolutely terrify me when they most likely won't actually end up hurting her.

 I think I understand but folks? I'm terrified.


  1. Yep, you just got it. It's the hardest most fulfilling job you'll ever have.

    1. When I went with your wife, your kids, and Joan to the playground I was amazed at how calm Jen was with the girls climbing up on the monkey bars, doing gymnastics. I seriously had no clue how she could be so calm.

      Now I know what she meant when she said that, no, she was scared as hell too but couldn't show it.