Baby Steps

I am an overprotective mother.  WAY over.  If it weren't for my husband, my children would never have graduated to solid foods.


But, even with this extreme paranoia, my children have managed to break legs (in my son's case, both of them), experience camp-outs and pooping in the woods, learn how to ride bikes, and see the Twilight movies at the midnight showing (with me at the Starbucks next door).


But today something happened that makes me think that perhaps I'm growing up.  Jake headed out with his friend to his friend's house, on a scooter.  I calmly heard this information from my daughter, then walked calmly to my husband and even more calmly asked him if he knew Jake had arrived safely.  He smiled knowingly at me, wondering when I would start to freak out, and replied that he planned on calling in a few minutes to make sure.  Sure enough, all is well.


Jake later shared with me that they'd made a side trip to the school and played basketball with a bunch of other boys.


Deep breath.


Okay.  I think I'm fine.