Like a good dad, when my kids talk I listen.
“Dad, we want a trampoline.”
My mind went where most parents’ minds go when expensive,
potentially dangerous requests are made from our well-intentioned little ones.
“Which neighbor has a trampoline so that I can fulfill this
request?” I pondered.
Luckily, I could answer the question. A lovely neighbor does
indeed have one of these jumping, bouncing polypropylene sandboxes with
springs. And in good condition. And with netting to make me feel safer as a parent.
So, after gaining permission to jump, we headed over to try
it out.
Our three oldest got right to jumping. No hesitation. Barely
a “Thank you for letting us invade your yard and use your trampoline for our
dad who is too cheap to buy us one.”
Our smallest watched for a few moments, trying to figure
this out. Clearly, she had second thoughts. Has she read the Pediatrics
guidelines around injury risks from such devices?
I picked her up and placed her on the springy surface.
Her look back to me communicated a strong skepticism.
“Dear, you jump up and then have fun falling down.”
In her mind: “Fall. Falling down. That means getting hurt,
boo-boos, ouchies, band-aids.”
Despite my pleading, I couldn’t convince her that this was a
safe place to jump and fall. I carried her off the trampoline.
We don’t jump because we are afraid to fall.
We don’t take that leap because of the security of feeling
our feet on the ground.
We miss the exhilaration of being airborne because we are so
focused on what happens when we come down.
Fear of failure holds us back from envisioning the heights we can
reach.
Focusing on past “ouchies” and falls keeps us from jumping
ahead.
Trauma and scars from hitting the ground in the past trip us
up in the present, both keeping us from jumping and putting us into a “fall
mindset”
So much so that when a trampoline moment presents itself, with
possibilities of reaching superhero heights, we turn around and ask to get off
without having taken a jump.
Even when trampoline moments ask us to suspend our beliefs around falling, ask us to re-consider the equation falling = failing, it is still tempting to back away without ever going airborne.
Excited to where you all take this analogy, how you choose to finish the piece…
Excited to hear whether this piece helps you jump!
A pogo stick comes to mind.
ReplyDeleteConvenient.
Portable.
Directable.
When I was a kid hours were spend semi-airborn, momentary weightless, gravity returning, again propelled.
Yes indeed I remember it well.
I still use mine, at least in my mind.
My thoughts yesterday were aligned with this...why do I stop myself from pushing the envelope a little further? Fear of failing/falling? Certainly true for mountain biking but hard to convince myself that I can't try harder and work toward a goal I set (or need to set) for myself. Thanks, this does give me food for thought as well as a smile about how your youngest felt about the trampoline. Love your solution to getting one yourself.
ReplyDeleteAs a pediatrician and dad (of two sons now in their 20s!), I appreciate your reflection on the fear of falling equating with the hesitancy in taking off. How our children react to those falls is telling of our relationship with them. One needs only to observe a toddler who's wandered away from a parent or fallen hard outdoors to discern what his-her level of security is. As the child looks at the parent after drifting a bit far or falling in pain, a reassuring and unworried look from the parent gives courage and solace and the toddler gets up or pivots elsewhere and plays on. However, if the toddler sees a look of alarm or anxiety, tears may fall and the courage to explore may fail as he-she awaits rescue. How we face adversity, pain, and failure is as much about those who love and care for us as it is about what's inside each of us.
ReplyDeleteIf one googles "trampoline injuries", the first item is the link below. Sometimes, as parents, we simply have to say no, while offering safer, reasonable alternatives. As my children grew older and their debate skills improved, I learned to say, "you may be smarter than me, but I'm more experienced, so you just need to trust that I have your best interest at heart and I know what's best in this situation... I love you". Blessings...JR.
https://www.aappublications.org/news/2019/09/10/focus091019
With the holidays and cold weather approaching, I’ve been thinking about gift-giving. I’ve noticed that my kids often ask for expensive or dangerous gifts. When they do, I do my best to listen and understand their perspective. Just read these tips for your dissertation presentation.
ReplyDelete