My middle child is fifteen and appropriately independent for his age.
He was planning to ride into a local small city at 0900 on Sunday and then ride back later in the day. It's a ride of 15 miles one-way that he's done many times. The road is a slightly hilly, sinuous single carriageway NSL road that cars often travel along at 70-80 mph.
On Sunday morning it was cold, wet and slippery. Horrid, really.
I tossed him the garage keys to get his bike out and sort it out... then I bumbled off to dig out some full-finger gloves and a headband thingy...
Then (to my shame) I said "It's absolutely 'taters outside, the sun is low and the roads will be slippery. Is this a good idea?"
He thought better of the ride. The protective-father part of my brain thought I'd done a sterling job. He often ignores my advice.
The Elbows-Out Tashkent Psychopath part of my brain felt utterly rotten for suggesting he gave it a miss.
This is a boy who's been riding (accompanied) the 70 miles to see his grandmother in the Valleys since he was ten. He does know what he's doing, he can handle a bicycle and he's no stranger to artics whipping past him a little too intimately on fastish descents.
We raked the last leaves, lit a bonfire and cleared gravel paths instead that morning - and I felt a bit naughty for discouraging him.
It irks me that he might have attached some (in truth absent) wisdom to my words and thereby given them a gravitas they lacked.
Have all parents done something like this, or was I crushing the spirit of adventure in those I love?
He was planning to ride into a local small city at 0900 on Sunday and then ride back later in the day. It's a ride of 15 miles one-way that he's done many times. The road is a slightly hilly, sinuous single carriageway NSL road that cars often travel along at 70-80 mph.
On Sunday morning it was cold, wet and slippery. Horrid, really.
I tossed him the garage keys to get his bike out and sort it out... then I bumbled off to dig out some full-finger gloves and a headband thingy...
Then (to my shame) I said "It's absolutely 'taters outside, the sun is low and the roads will be slippery. Is this a good idea?"
He thought better of the ride. The protective-father part of my brain thought I'd done a sterling job. He often ignores my advice.
The Elbows-Out Tashkent Psychopath part of my brain felt utterly rotten for suggesting he gave it a miss.
This is a boy who's been riding (accompanied) the 70 miles to see his grandmother in the Valleys since he was ten. He does know what he's doing, he can handle a bicycle and he's no stranger to artics whipping past him a little too intimately on fastish descents.
We raked the last leaves, lit a bonfire and cleared gravel paths instead that morning - and I felt a bit naughty for discouraging him.
It irks me that he might have attached some (in truth absent) wisdom to my words and thereby given them a gravitas they lacked.
Have all parents done something like this, or was I crushing the spirit of adventure in those I love?