I hate Ann Widdecombe. Which means that when
she actually does go off on one on a topic I agree with I wind up
transferring that hate to the aforementioned topic and then compound
it based on the level of stupidity that she's pointing out.
In this case it's an article that I first had
my attention drawn to by Murdoch Propaganda Incorporated – UK
Edition. Or, as you're probably more familiar with on this side of
the Atlantic, Sky News. This is what happens when my parents visit. I
get my news junkie tendencies from them, but while I prefer Al
Jazeera or BBC World News (and Russia Today for comedy purposes)
they're inexplicably happy to watch Sky. Well. At least they didn't
try bringing a physical copy of the Daily Mail into my home. However,
I digress.
Having flicked the TV on for the first time in
seemingly days I came across a piece about how the August 7th
is National Play Day (traditionally held on the first Wednesday in
August) and that there's an alarming number of parents who pretty
much bubble-wrap their offspring, hover over them like a Cold War era
U2 spy plane and start having palpitations as soon as their precious
darlings show any sign of risk taking. After scowling in disbelief at
the screen I poked around online and found that one of the only
recent news articles confirming the statistics was courtesy of Ann
Widdecombe in the the Express, voicing as much outrage as I was
feeling.
Now I do have some sympathy for the fear of
harm befalling one's child. Christ, just read my last post if you
haven't. (By the way – I'm leaking far less at the eyeballs and the
terror is far more manageable now, although there remain a few
lingering fears and niggles scuttling around the back of my brain
like vermin trying to chew their way into the rest of my mind.)
However in my not especially humble opinion, depriving your children
of the chance to clamber up trees, frolic in dirt, and generally take
risks is another form of child abuse. Something like 25% of parents
are guilty of this. So. That's a swathe of one in every four kids
(give or take) whose childhood will consist of sedentary blandness.
So well done there. In addition to your
behaviour making you agree with Ann Widdecombe (almost as bad as Mitt
Romney's idiocy making me side with Boris Johnson over the London
Olympics), you and your paranoia are also probably going to make the
obesity epidemic that much worse, not to mention just outright
denying your children the chance to have a “normal” childhood.
I think about some of the stuff I got up to as
a child and aside from a few incidents (jumping off a 15 foot diving
platform to capsize my brother's rubber dinghy when I was six springs
to mind.) there isn't much I wouldn't want my kid doing. Well. Not
now, obviously, but the fact he can only hold his head up for about
five seconds a a time sort of limits the mayhem he can wreak.
I grew up in the developing world so I was
lucky enough to spend most of my spare time in the outdoors since
television was mostly propaganda and nowhere near as interesting as
the wildlife in my garden. I was forever climbing up trees, or gates,
or walls, or just about anything that could serve as a climbing
frame. At least one knee or elbow would be skinned at any given
point. Sure, I'd scream my head off at the time when I initially fell
off my bike or took a spill on my skates, but it wouldn't stop me
from getting right back out there as soon as I was disinfected and
patched up.
Now as an adult I've taken up kickboxing, I
enjoy paintball, and tend to spend more time in the pit at gigs than
I do at the bar (unless the queue is really bad or the sound is so
dire I need a veil provided by alcoholic haze to be able to hear what
it is the band is allegedly playing). I've had crowd surfers dropped
on me, combat boots to the back of my head, and been winded and sent
flying by overly enthusiastic fans.
I'm not saying that this sort of thing is going
to be everyone's cup of tea. But what I am saying is that the knocks
and scrapes I got as a kid have taught me a few things; how to handle
pain, how to keep my senses about me when I'm in a situation likely
to result in pain or injury, and how to take risks within reason. I
want my boy to be able to do the same.
I'm sure there'll be some parents who'll think
of me as a dreadful parent myself for allowing my child to risk
injury and harm to himself by climbing up trees or riding his bike
with friends on his own or taking him with me to a festival. That's
fine. They're entitled to their opinion just as I'm entitled to mine.
What I am fairly certain about, though, is that I'll be having a
whole lot more fun than they will with my little hellraiser.
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