Yes, my kid is on a leash. Don?t judge me.
As my three-year-old son and I strolled through the parking lot, a group of teenagers started giggling and pointing at us. My stomach tightened and my cheeks turned red. They were laughing at my child. I tightened the grip on the leash attached to my son?s blue backpack.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to focus on my son?s carefree demeanour. ?I can?t wait to go shopping,? he exclaimed. ?Me, too, baby,? I said, smiling at him. You see, my son is an escape artist. But with the leash backpack secured to him, I knew we?d have a great time. It?s taken some time, but I?ve learned to love the leash.
There are two types of kids: the barnacles who remain obediently by their parents? side and the bolters who take off. My son is like the Usain Bolt of children. It all started when he was nine months old. He was about to crawl for the first time. With my arms outstretched and my camera ready, I encouraged him. ?You can do it, little guy,? I said. He rocked back and forth on all fours. Then he looked over his left shoulder and promptly turned around. I snapped a photo of his rear end as he crawled away from me.
This became a pattern. Wherever I was, my son would crawl, walk or run in the opposite direction. He also loved to disappear. We would be in the children?s section of the library and then, poof, he would suddenly appear in the parking lot. Or we would be at the zoo, looking at the lions, and then, poof, he would be hiding underneath a rack of T-shirts in the souvenir shop.
Before ...
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