One of the most important parenting decisions we have had to make so far happened in the middle of a fairground.
We were exhausted. Our house was on the market; our youngest daughter, Penny, was an infant, and our older children were still young — ages 5 and 3. One night we decided that, in the name of providing good memories and life experiences, we would brave the crowd and the insane parking and fork over the cash to take the kids to the local show. We pushed our stroller around farm animals and bought fairy floss and stood in line forever for ride tickets.
Nicholas, our oldest, was in seventh heaven, dragging us all with him as he sprinted from ride to ride, some of them two or three times. Our middle daughter, Abby, was too scared to get on the rides.
My husband tried to encourage her, but she kept saying no.
At first we were both a little frustrated. We had driven past these rides several times for the past few days, and each time she would beg to stop the car so that she could go on the merry-go-round. But now she had tears in her eyes and fear in her heart as she stood in front of the giant slide or next to the Ferris wheel.
As I listened to Eddie try to coax her onto the rides, my heart sank. It was no fault of his. He was being a good dad. He just wanted to show her that she could overcome that fear and have fun.
“Come on, honey. I’ll be right here with you the whole time. You don’t have to be scared. You can trust me. I love you.”
I knew.
I knew in 10 or 12 or 20 years she would hear those same words from another boy or another man, but the stakes would be much higher.
And when my daughters hear those words, as I know they will, I want them to be able to say “no” – and say it over and over again if they have to.