One day while I'm in the kitchen preparing dinner, wishing for at least four arms and legs to keep everything humming harmonically, fifteen year old Barry walks toward me and says, Mom, you don't haven't a drive me to school, anymore; I'm gonna ride my bike.
What? I ask surprised. Why would you want to do that?
Because I feel like such a kid when you drop me off.
My first inclination is to say, but, Barry, you are a kid, and I drive you because it's at least two miles to school; it's hot as blazes outside; there's no bus service anywhere near here and you'll have to leave the house so early and get home so much later ... however, I think before I speak. As I've become practiced at taking a spontaneous time-out on the spot, my mind bites back my initial perceptions in favor of responding to what I see as Barry's need to approach his classmates independent of parental supervision. In short, I'm intuitively aware of personal growth taking place during these four years of high school when an active mind evolves through the classic transition of leaving childhood behind while advancing toward the earliest stage of adult independence.
I guess you could say that I challenge my brain to penetrate the surface of my sons' remarks in hopes of achieving depth perception in a similar fashion as when I challenge my mind to penetrate repetitive designs, drawn on each page of those Magic Eye books, which challenge the brain's power of depth perception to re-organize complex patterns until 3D pictures emerge so clearly as to make me exclaim, Aha! There it is! I see it, now!
Though my comfort zone must stretch past the fact that it's dark outside when Barry switches on his bike light and pedals off, wheels spinning, reflectors flashing, I find no rational reason to delay my eldest son's natural desire to expand his adventurous sense of independence. Therefore, my maternal instinct, which longs to protect this precious person from whatever unwonted surprise the world may fling across his path, must work at loosening parental reins.
As youth's natural need to grow beyond present limits creates a sense of internal conflict within me, I am charged with growing courageous and insightful enough to discern when to plant thoughts of roots and when to encourage each of my sons to increase his wing span by providing all three with opportunities to fly solo toward whatever destiny may hold in store for each one ... So though all of my concerns are eventually aired and briefly discussed, the greater part of my mind works in readiness to accept the fact that my first born child is actively growing up as we speak.
And if you ask: Annie, how does Barry, riding solo to school, relate to youth's independent spirit breaking rules?
I'll reply: Please tune in tomorrow :)
What? I ask surprised. Why would you want to do that?
Because I feel like such a kid when you drop me off.
My first inclination is to say, but, Barry, you are a kid, and I drive you because it's at least two miles to school; it's hot as blazes outside; there's no bus service anywhere near here and you'll have to leave the house so early and get home so much later ... however, I think before I speak. As I've become practiced at taking a spontaneous time-out on the spot, my mind bites back my initial perceptions in favor of responding to what I see as Barry's need to approach his classmates independent of parental supervision. In short, I'm intuitively aware of personal growth taking place during these four years of high school when an active mind evolves through the classic transition of leaving childhood behind while advancing toward the earliest stage of adult independence.
I guess you could say that I challenge my brain to penetrate the surface of my sons' remarks in hopes of achieving depth perception in a similar fashion as when I challenge my mind to penetrate repetitive designs, drawn on each page of those Magic Eye books, which challenge the brain's power of depth perception to re-organize complex patterns until 3D pictures emerge so clearly as to make me exclaim, Aha! There it is! I see it, now!
Though my comfort zone must stretch past the fact that it's dark outside when Barry switches on his bike light and pedals off, wheels spinning, reflectors flashing, I find no rational reason to delay my eldest son's natural desire to expand his adventurous sense of independence. Therefore, my maternal instinct, which longs to protect this precious person from whatever unwonted surprise the world may fling across his path, must work at loosening parental reins.
As youth's natural need to grow beyond present limits creates a sense of internal conflict within me, I am charged with growing courageous and insightful enough to discern when to plant thoughts of roots and when to encourage each of my sons to increase his wing span by providing all three with opportunities to fly solo toward whatever destiny may hold in store for each one ... So though all of my concerns are eventually aired and briefly discussed, the greater part of my mind works in readiness to accept the fact that my first born child is actively growing up as we speak.
And if you ask: Annie, how does Barry, riding solo to school, relate to youth's independent spirit breaking rules?
I'll reply: Please tune in tomorrow :)
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