My mom is not really one to walk on the wild side. Especially when it comes to parenting.
(Disclaimer – I love my mom. Dearly. And anything said here is said without any malice. She knows that. And will probably also agree with everything that follows. To some extent.)
She didn’t let us eat dirt. Or put things in our mouths after they’d fallen on the ground. In fact. I ‘m pretty sure she still carries around wet wipes with her. Just in case.
We were only allowed to ride our bikes up and down our block. Sure, there was a really cool hill on the next block over. (We’re talking a near 90 degree angle here. It was epic.) That all the neighborhood kids got to traverse for hours on end during the summer. (We could hear their screams of joy from our backyard. It was torturous.) But mom couldn’t see us from the kitchen window if we went over there. And the majority of kidnappings happen within a block of a child’s home. So we were s*** outta luck. (And everyone wonders why I didn’t learn to ride a two-wheeler until I was 12. Our block is as steep as the plains of Iowa. There was just no incentive.)
