That Mom

I always said I would not be “that mom” that contains her child in a bubble. As it turns out, that is one of the many things about parenting that is much easier said than done. As the Little Man becomes more mobile, it becomes harder and harder not to intervene every time I spot a potential danger.

I mean, honestly, one of these days he will have to learn that not all surfaces are as cushy to fall on as the carpet in our living room. He will discover that not everything is safe to chomp on. And he will need to figure out that it hurts when you take a dive off the side of the bed.

It’s hard, though. I want so badly to protect him from the bad stuff. I would do just about anything to avoid having to listen to him cry. But then, at the same time, I would hate to stifle his curiosity. He’s just so interested in the world right now. There must be some middle ground here; I just haven’t found it yet.

So for now, I will continue to let him do his thing and watch from a distance. I’ll try not to let him hear me gasp every time he pulls himself up on something that isn’t the least bit stable. I will pick him up turn him around when he’s headed toward every single electrical cord he spots. I guess that’s just what moms have to do, right?