If They Jump Off a Bridge Once, They Likely Won't Want to Try It Again

The co-author of Fifty Dangerous Things (You Should Let Your Children Do), which could be subtitled Or, How to Get Protective Services Banging Down Your Door by Friday, was interviewed by The Daily Mail.

The co-author suggests having your kids superglue their fingers together and put CDs in the microwave as "a response to the trend of fear-based parenting, where parents stop their offspring from trying new things for fear they may get hurt."

But should I let — or rather, insist — my kids lick a 9-volt battery? I did that once and, sure, it prevented me from ever doing that again. (If you're thinking about licking one yourself, trust me: DO NOT DO THAT.)

I understand that we're overprotecting our kids these days, and we're afraid to let them get dirty, and we modern parents would prefer them leave the house wearing helmets and bubble wrap with an umbilical cord tethered to the house. But frankly, my kids get into enough dangerous trouble already.

Which brings me to an incident that happened this weekend. Jackson and I were killing time early Saturday afternoon, so after a rather successful run at Chuck E. Cheese (Daddy won 100 tickets on one spin of some stupid game), we went to Barnes & Noble. We grabbed a few books and headed to the cafe.

Jackson grabbed a big glass bottle of lemonade from the refrigerated display that is unfortunately accessible to children. For reasons that are common to kids his age, he was insisting on paying for it himself. I didn't want him to do that, because I wanted to tell the cashier my phone number, because that was connected to my membership, and I'd get 10% off my purchase. I didn't trust Jackson would pull off the transaction correctly.

He was holding the bottle and pulling on my arm so that he was standing at a 45-degree angle while I stood fast. I kept telling him to stop yanking on me, but I was too worn out to do much about it (I'd just spent an hour at Chuck E. Cheese, after all). The bottle slipped out of his hand and *POP* it broke into a sad pale-yellow mess of shards on the hard floor.

As someone came around to clean it up, Jackson braced himself for a yellin', but I didn't get mad or anything. I grabbed another bottle, apologized to the cashier, didn't feel like giving her my number since I was thankful I didn't have to pay for the broken beverage, so I didn't save the 21 cents.

We sat down with our books and new lemonade, and Jackson said, "Next time, you can hold the bottle."

Lesson learned! Or is it...? Read more...