Summer is upon us and it鈥檚 time to start thinking about all the mischief our kids can get into 鈥� and I鈥檓 not talking about registering for every day camp available. I鈥檓 talking about true, authentic summer recreating.
In my work as a parenting educator, I often share an exercise that helps parents find where their values are rooted. I begin by asking the group to think of a time in their childhood that really stands out for them, a time they recall being entirely carefree, joyful and alive.
After a few minutes of searching the memory banks, we take a moment to live into the recollection, bringing it clearly to the fore, before I ask everyone to share what that moment was for them. Nine times out of 10, the group regales in tales of bike rides on endless monkey trails, day-long adventures in the forest building forts, or beachcombing down by the ocean 鈥� in and out of the water, only stopping for a quick lunch and a slathering of sunscreen. Kim John Payne, the author of Simplicity Parenting, calls these 鈥済olden moments.鈥�
Time outdoors. Sun-stained faces and feet sticky from poplar buds. Jumping over or diving under the highest waves in windstorms. Damming streams and channels and diverting water at any given opportunity. Nesting in abandoned hay bales with spiders and field mice and bats. Collecting seemingly broken dragonflies and smoothing their wings until they could fly again. Long, long walks to the candy store in 30C heat that were rewarded with rainbow ice-cream. All-day fort building in the abandoned lot up the road. Baseball in the field at dusk. Writing and performing plays with siblings, cousins and best friends.
For me these halo-ed memories take place at Twin Lakes Beach where I spent all my summers in Manitoba with my family.
The key, of course, the uniting element, that I share with every single one of the adults I鈥檝e ever had do this exercise: No adults. Sure, we knew where they were. And they sometimes knew where we were, or at very least they had a rough idea.
But from the time we wiped the sleep from our eyes and the cereal from our faces and shot out the door, we had a vast world to explore 鈥� and conquer. Trees that needed to be climbed, rivers traversed and hockey cards traded. And unless we required a sandwich or a bandage or some coins to go to the store, we were pretty much on our own, making the most of our days, unstructured as they were. And we reveled in the independence.
Little brothers and sisters tagged along, everyone had a role or a job, and we all had a chance to hone our natural talents and abilities: we discovered who of us could give Napoleon a run for his money, identified our Picasso, our Harold Pinter. We knew which of us was Mary Lou Retton and Pete Rose, Robin Williams, Mother Theresa and Robin Hood. The ties that still bind us are sinewy and strong, and they are as long-lasting as those carefree summer days that flowed seamlessly from one into the other.
What I ask of parents now, as we go headlong into the dog days of summer, is this: Sit back for 10 or 15 minutes and dig through your golden moments. Remember the sun on your face and the smell of field grass in your nostrils. Relive the sensation of having a dusting of dirt on your Coppertoned arms. Remember the freedom and the friendships.
And now do whatever you can to ensure that your children have that summer. Give them as much space as you think they can handle.
And then give them just a little bit more.
