When I was pregnant, I considered the nights I’d stay away with a sick kiddo or the sticky hands and face. I thought about the time he would repeat a curse word he heard one of us mumble and I foresaw the pictures I would take of a little face smothered in spaghetti and chocolate.
As I felt my son’s little legs so active in utero, we joked he’d be a dancer or a soccer player. Something I didn’t see coming? A little runner.
It started with a little independence at the park, but a walk down the street to watch the Pittsburgh Marathon did us in. You’d never think that cheering on people working their bums off would cause you grief, and I have to admit, at first it was adorable.
He was fascinated with the “racers” as they made their way by, waving and cheering them on. As his legs became restless, we allowed him out of the stroller for a closer look. I turned my head to see if my husband was catching the cuteness on camera, and off he went!
My two year-old took off with the speed of an Olympic sprinter, running alongside the marathoners. I hustled to catch him and laughed hysterically after. I mean, it was precious.
But every day isn’t a marathon.
The next day in Target the kid bolted unexpectedly and I lost him for a couple of minutes. The scariest part is that I was paying full attention. I wasn’t in my own world at all; he was (and is) just that fast.
A woman remarked that I should get a leash. I’m still proud of myself for not knocking her into next Tuesday. She was in her early twenties leisurely going through the racks of new clothes, assuming that I just let my kid run wild. After the leash comment she looked at me and said, “You know, it’s 2016.”
I still have no idea what she meant by that and hope she didn’t expect me to actually listen as I was racing after the child she said I should leash.
We now back carry during every errand, sometimes receiving side eye and questions on my child’s age, but it’s our failsafe way to get things done without issue.
And then there was the time that we could have endured a nightmare. Our house is on a busy street in the city and we are very careful to make sure our doors are always locked, the alarm is on, and when walking outside, a firm grip is on our little’s hand. One day a few weeks back my guy magically maneuvered out of my steel-handed grip into the busy street. Thankfully, no one was coming.
I immediately grabbed him, looked into his eyes with tears in mine, and explained how unacceptable it was what he did. Because of his age he understood that mommy wasn’t happy, but I don’t think he realized his crime.
I wish I could give those of you with runners some trusted advice. I guess the best nugget I can give you is to never underestimate your child.
We are currently working on the “freeze” game, but I cannot currently share a success story as far as methods go. I also try to distract him with flowers along routes and pick him up when I’m feeling that little tickle that reminds me what he’s capable of. But he’s a city kid, and walking along streets is something we all have to get used to.
And while he’s getting better, there is that fear that keeps us safe if not anxious. I just have to tell myself, “He’ll break records one day” as I pour a glass of wine.
