They took off.
The kids—Sweetie Pie & his twin 10 year old cousins—took off in a sprint down the uncrowded path of the River Walk. Blurs of brightly colored shirts & their blonde hair streaked in my line of view. And just as that momma freak-out, panic feeling started creeping in & I was about to
yell screech for them to come back, they all stopped, as if on cue, & looked back to let us all catch up.
They were never in any danger. They weren’t running over other people on the path. They didn’t get very far ahead of us…maybe 40 feet ahead. They were just being kids letting some energy out.
And my inner helicopter mom was beginning to surface. I was hovering—or about to hover.
It was then I realized that my 4-year-old is growing up. Sweetie Pie is capable of much more than I give him credit for. Than I’m ready to give him credit for. These years are going by in the blink of an eye.
He can run with his cousins. No problem. He isn’t going to fall into the river. He can hang upside down on the railing of the stairs without falling. He can slide down those same rails. He can play rough & be fine.
As much as I want to stop the clock, as much as I want him to be little forever, it’s not going to happen.
It’s ALREADY time for me to BEGIN to ever-so-slightly loosen the apron strings. Which isn’t going to be easy. Because , you know, we all have the helicopter mom in us. I now have to control her.