Several years ago I watched in horror as a respectable looking woman
crossed Fairfax with four toddlers all on leashes. It was like
something out of a horror film and I gasped, giggled, and then gasped
again.
Babies on leashes always seemed so wrong. Soooosososo wrong. It
seemed so tacky. So lazy! So... ick! Bleh! Yuck! I was the first person
to roll my eyes at Disneyland when I spotted fanny-pack clad mothers,
their toddlers on Disney brand leashes. I judged mothers left and right
and wondered how they slept at night, knowing they leashed their kids.
"They're not dogs. They're babies," I thought. "Sheesh."
That was before I was the mother of a wandering Jew
two-year-old. Before my shy little boy turned into a brave and
disobedient little explorer with a mind all his own and no desire to
impress me or entertain my rules.
He may stay close to me in familiar places but in new and dangerous ones, he's fearless and curious and wants nothing more than to run free. Far, far, away.
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