Don't Talk to Strangers

The Tori Stafford case has generated a lot of discussion amongst parents on the amount of freedom we give, or do not give, our kids.  How much is too much? What are they ready for and when? What do I let my kids do in comparison to other parents?  Many factors come in to play when we define our ‘comfort zone’ with our kid’s freedom.  And these include things like our own personal experiences as children.  What is acceptable for me may not (and is not) acceptable with all of my friends.

In general, I seem to be a little more liberal in the freedom I am allowing my eight year old son.  He walks to and from school without an adult – he is with at least one friend.  He is allowed to cross the train tracks in our backyard and play in the field behind our house and the rock pit a few houses away.  He is allowed to ride his bike around our neighbourhood and even go to the park near our house without one of us with him.   I have a very good friend whose knees would tremble just reading this list. 

And the details surrounding the Stafford case would seem to tip in her favour of more protective parenting. Just like with the Paul Bernardo case in the 90s, it would appear to be a reminder that our children are not safe: that they could be ripped from your life just walking home from school by a complete stranger.

I recently read an interesting article that said statistics don’t support that our worst fears would ever come true.  It gave an American figure stating that the chances of a child being abducted and killed by a stranger are about one in a million.  This is comforting news.  Still, I am not sure that it is enough to counter the fear that your child could be that one in a million.

I grew up spending my weekends on a farm. I was left largely unattended with my sisters and cousins for hours at a time.  We would be in the barns jumping from haystack to haystack. We climbed ladders that seemed as if they could collapse at any moment.  I spent entire afternoons at the creek trying to make rafts that wouldn’t sink. For Pete’s sake didn’t my parents think about the fact that I could have drowned? 

Well, actually, I know my mom would have thought of that and would never have allowed me to be at a creek by myself. But it was my Dad who took us to the farm each weekend and while he helped with the work, we were left to our own devices.  No, my mom probably wouldn’t have had any of it due to her over-protective nature.  And how sad it would be to have those moments, those times of magic and adventure, taken from me in an attempt to protect me.

And it is that sense of adventure and magic and freedom and independence that I want to give my own children. I don’t actively think of these things when I send them out the back door and tell them to be careful. It just feels right to me.  The first chapter in Sidney Poitier’s memoir The Measure of a Man has always resonated with me and I have thought of it often over the years.  He talks about growing up in the Bahamas and how even as a child as young as four or five he had the freedom to roam and explore. It sometimes resulted in consequence but it mostly resulted in fun and learning and a natural sense of understanding right from wrong.

We are bombarded with information and news about the terrible things that could happen to our children.  And sometimes we are crippled by that fear.  Should I be more protective? Should others be less protective? Obviously we all do what we are comfortable with which means there is no right answer.  How much freedom is too much? I have no idea.  And I really don’t have to worry anyway because while my son is off playing in the field with his friend, his friend’s mother is there to watch over the both of them.

A link to the article I mentioned:

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/toronto/marcus-gee/statistics-dont-support-over-protective-parenting/article2382210/