Free-Ranging It
Is what’s good for the goose chicken . . . good for the gander children?
These children that I have coddled and cuddled for over ten years? The ones who, yes, have a tendency to fall on their heads but otherwise have demonstrated good judgment and responsibility in spades.
Free range these children? These peace-loving, tree-hugging, flower children o’mine?
Yes. I know the answer is yes. It is time to let them out into that big bad world out there.
And in defense of that world, it’s been putting on a good show. You’d never guess that she’s hell-bent on scaring me to pieces. What with the blushing blossoms on her fruit trees
And her sweet young sprouts,
the world is practically bursting apart with displays of innocence. It’s as if Mother Earth has draped herself in springtime in an evil attempt to forcefully loosen my hold and get my precious babes out into her play-land.
Which I know to be full of danger.
But it’s working. I’m breaking down. I am being fooled by Mama Nature.
Fooled into letting them ride their bikes without tethering them to bubble-wrap. Fooled into giving them opportunities to flourish and the freedom to fail. Fooled into free-ranging my chickadees.
No, not because it would make their flesh succulent and tender.
It’s because the little box that I yearn to keep them in is busting at the seams and at some point they may want to do things, like go to college. Or get married.
And I hear that’s kind of hard to do when you’re being raised like veal.