Reserving my No

If the temperature is 50 degrees or higher, you'll find Will and me at the park down the street. Thankfully, we've started seeing some of those temps around here lately, and here's my big revelation: Everything I need to know about parenting I think I'm going to learn at the park.

First, about reserving my No.

The first thing Will does when I unstrap him from his stroller at the park is bend down and pick up sticks, several for each hand. This has been his modus operandi since his first trip to the park last spring. He does it every single time.

I think it's cute, my boy, being a boy and playing with sticks.

It didn't even cross my mind that sticks on the playground possibly weren't cute until I recently heard two mothers reprimand their children for having them: One, put that down, you'll get a splinter. And the other, simply, we don't play with sticks on the playground (as my kid scurried to pick up the stick she just discarded from her son's hand).

Since then, I've been wondering if maybe those mothers are right. Sticks can be dangerous, I get that.

But that's not even the half of it.

Will doesn't just carry the sticks around. He chews on the ends of them.

When I started taking Will to the park last year, I thought it was a fluke one day when three different parents (two were actually dads) notified me from across the Choo Choo train that my son had sticks in his mouth.

I've since learned it wasn't a fluke. I get told about the sticks in Will's mouth every time we go to the park.

My reaction has always been: Okay, thanks. I'm picking my battles.

But during our trip to the park a few days ago, I succumbed to the peer pressure and started telling Will to take the sticks out of his mouth.

And it ruined our time at the park.

I think I'm going to go back to my usual response, and here's why:

I don't have a kid who wants to play where playing is intended. I've got a real Christopher Columbus on my hands, and he isn't satisfied leaving one blade of grass in the park undiscovered. And that means he's often headed straight for the busy street or is about to get run over by a biker. It means he's going to pick up the Mellow Yellow can off the ground and try to drink from it. It means he's going to try to ride some kid's unoccupied scooter. It means he's going to run into the restroom if the door is open long enough and discover what exactly it is that's clogging the toilet.

And I'm going to tell him No every single time.

On our way home from the park one day this week, Will started saying No. He wasn't saying it in response to anything, but was just repeating a new word he'd apparently just picked up. (I wonder from who?) I  thought to myself: How many parents actually know the day their kid starting using the No word? Well, I do. February 17, 2014. 

I needed no more confirmation than that. If he learns by example, then I've got to start reserving my No. I want to raise a Yes kind of kid, not a No kind of kid.

So I've decided to draw the line at chewing on sticks. I'll let him figure that one out on his own.

If chewing on sticks (or even having sticks) is on another mother's No list, I get it and I respect it, and I'll spare her the long story about why it's not on mine, but suffice it to say, I'm not being lazy, I'm just reserving my No.

********

Lesson #2 at the park: On hovering.
Coming soon.

On our way to the park yesterday. Fingers aren't as good
as sticks, but they'll do in pinch.