Miss Independent

It all started just prior to school starting.   She really, really, really wanted to ride the bus, and I really, really, really was not going to let her do it.   She was six years old, new to the area and school, and I was not about to let her climb aboard a huge, yellow, no seat belt bus with a bunch of strangers and leave me sobbing at the bus stop.  I am just not ready for that leap.  Don’t know that I ever will be.

When she finally accepted that I wasn’t going to waiver on this, she began the task of trying to convince me to drop her off in the car drop line. 

Nope.   Remember this kid?   He was (supposedly) dropped off and never seen again.   The walk into the school and out to the playground is open in the morning, and Doug and I have discussed many times how simple it would be for some strange adult to wonder out there and fall in line with other parents and kids and possibly convince our girl to go off the school grounds with them.

Not going to happen.  I will walk you  ALL the way out there.  Thank you very much.

Last week, it was our park hike.   She desperately wanted to hike further up the trail ahead of us, and I kept calling her back within sight distance. 

This frustrated her to no end.   My constant threats of making her come back and hold my hand the rest of the hike did not help her already moody behavior, so when she rolled her eyes and took off in a dead run (once again) ahead of us on the trail, I did not call her back this time.   I figured we were pretty much alone on the hike that day, and she wouldn’t go too far, and besides if she did, this would be a great opportunity to teach her a lesson.

The short story is, she DID go too far ahead, and took a fork to the right.  When we came to the same fork, we took a left.   She wasn’t completely lost.  It was really only a 5 minute separation, which I will admit DID feel like hours before we were reunited with our tear streaked girl on a loop in the trail about a quarter of a mile ahead.    When she heard my voice, she ran to me crying and clutched onto me with shaking hands.  

She didn’t stray more than a few feet from us the rest of the day.

 

She was really quiet the rest of the afternoon.  I could tell that “lost” incident had shaken her up.   She sat looking out over the water in silence like this for several minutes, and then finally she spoke.

Mom, I am sorry I didn’t listen to you.   I should stay with you guys to be safe.   I learned my lesson.

What?   For once one of my “I will teach her” moments worked?   I could not believe it.

Then she added,  You were right.  I am not ready to ride the bus.

Just like that, she said it.

On Monday morning, we pulled into the school as usual to park and start our walk out to the playground.   On this day, I took a right and headed for the car drop off lane.

Mom, what are you doing?  This is for drop-off kids, Kaelan gasped.

I know, I said.   You are ready for it.

She looked completely shocked and then smiled a knowing smile that told me she knew what I was up to.  I was rebuilding  confidence.  MY confidence in knowing the world is not all horrible missing and abducted kid stories.   HER confidence in her ability  to make the right choices in life. 

MY confidence in HER.

True, I cried as I watched her walk up the sidewalk and through the school doors without me, but I knew she would be okay.  I won’t drop her off like this all the time.  I am not ready for that.  In fact, she asked me to still walk her in on most days.  But I think we are taking baby steps together on this whole independence thing.  

Perhaps it will make college  easier for me or lessen the blow the second time around with The Boy.

Probably not.