The independent child

April 10 2008

After swooshing away some baby vomit at a park yesterday, I asked my 4 year old son to return the bucket to the visitor’s centre. Except when inside the small building, he remained in view at all times and was less than 50 metres away from me. He seemed so proud to have stretched the imaginary elastic band between us.

It is however such a differnet world we live in now compared to my own childhood. I remember being sent across the road to the corner shop for bread and milk and getting into trouble for talking to a stranger. You see, I had taken longer than usual to return home and expressed much excitement to my mother at having made a new friend. We were both both 3.5 years old and are still friends today.

I must have been much older when I started catching the bus into town to run messages for my mum. Maybe 8 or 9 years old. I recall freaking out once when I spotted my Dad’s car driving through the main street earlier than arranged to collect me on his way home from work. I somehow confused myself and started crying.

I was spotted in my state of distress and bundled off into a car with a kind man who drove me home. Yes he was a stranger but I just wanted to get home. At the time I didnt understand my mum’s fury but appreciated her comment that perhaps I wasnt quite old enough to venture so far. In a time of no mobile phones, I cant imagine how scared my dad would have been when I didnt show up at the pick up point.

Some time later when I was obviously thought to be old enough, I remember having a shopping list of items to pick up for my mum in town. It was just before Xmas and I had to buy Madera Wine from the bottle shop. I felt so embrassed that the booze dude wouldnt sell me alcohol and I cried saying I would get into trouble if I didnt take it home for mum to make the Xmas cake. The dude phoned my mum and once my story was confirmed, I was sold the wine. I must have been 10 or 11 years old.

Well I cant imagine sending my own little children off to the shops in the next street to run my messages and I know what would happen if I sent them up to the local bottle shop for me. What will become of my children though without the opportunity for pure independance at a young age?

My mum says I was born independant which apparently explains leaving home at 17, moving to the BIG SMOKE at 18 and then heading off overseas at 22 not returning till I was 31. Surely some of it had to do with opportunities at a young age to stretch that elastic band between mother and child. I am at a loss as to how to replicate it with my own children.