I don’t know about you, but I'm hiking thirty more miles.
Okay,
I said,
time to start heading back!
He picked up the pace from his vantage point fifteen yards ahead and tossed back a reply nonchalantly over his shoulder, tugging his younger brother along assertively.
“I don’t know about you,”
he called at me,
”but I’m not done hiking.”
I don’t know about you
I’m not against trucks or blue for boys.
I’m not against dolls or pink for girls.
I’m just against those preferences being thrust upon them culturally and socially as if they’re somehow inevitable.
That’s my problem with so many choices in television, toys, advertising, and culture at large:
kids being treated as if their biology and/or age determines and defines the things they’ll like.
Of course those things are variables. Sometimes it holds true.
But I’m not a huge fan of self-fulfilling prophesies, unless they’re prophecies important enough to give a little boost to along the way. 😀
I want to help teach our kids how to best be themselves. Or rather, I want to help clear some of the obstacles around them that get in the way at key developmental points in obstructing their path to best being themselves.
It’s amazing how easy it is to get sidetracked from your dreams, your purpose, your ideas and imagination when you’re an adult.
It happens to kids too.
So let’s help them hop or roll or walk or run along the track they’re on, and not throw them on one just because it seems like that’s what you’re supposed to do.
The hearts of humans in the forest’s heart
There is enormous benefit and value to hiking with your kids starting young.
First important thing is this: they’re gonna complain. At some point, at different points, they’re gonna complain. They’re gonna whine. They’ll be too tired, or too hungry, or too…wanting to do something else.
And then eventually, they’ll find their center. You’ll talk, and walk, and pick up dirty things with your clean hands and get dirty, and have a snack, and before you know it, the time is gobbled up with dialogue, dirt, and good memories. And you’ve earned an extra cup of coffee for yourself on the way back.
Art, music, books, good conversation, and hiking have something in common: they are little things that are doable, and they make every day better.
When we get home
“I don’t know about you, but what I really want to do is dress up,”
he announced as we slogged through the forest.
We’ll see,
I said.
I need to check to see if it’s legal for you to do that.
“Oh, it’s okay,”
he assured me,
”I can dress up whenever I want.”
In that case,
I said,
it sounds like you’re going to be dressing up when we get home.
“Yeah,”
he said.
”That’s a good idea.”
Meanwhile, back in the forest
“I don’t know about you, I’m not ready to be done hiking yet,”
he reminded me.
That’s fine,
I said.
I think I’ll come back tomorrow, and I can pick you up first thing in the morning. Did you bring a sleeping bag or flashlight?
He stopped and stared at me with a curious smile.
What are you looking at?
I asked.
“I know you’re not going to leave me here overnight,”
he said.
”I know you’re just joking.”
How do you know that?
I asked.
His grin got bigger.
”Well…you want me in your family, so you won’t leave, I know that. Because you love me.”
Some days I feel like I’ve successfully communicated the message I wanted to communicate.
Because (the skate park)
“I want to keep skating.”
he announced.
Why?
I asked; a question I ask frequently about many things.
“Because.”
he said.
”Because I like skating.”
That is a good reason to do something.
Wonder / wander (self-reflection)
Am I an extreme athlete?
I sometimes ponder.
Well, I take kids hiking year-round, and I banter incessantly with them while doing so.
So yes. The answer is yes, I tell myself.
Joseph,
I say, tapping my chest authoritatively,
you may not kite surf, or BASE jump, or white water kayak, or do competitive curling right now, but remember: you take kids hiking year round, and you make them like it.
Again, the answer is yes. Why yes, I am an extreme athlete.
——
