Ten minutes into our most recent visit to The McWane Science Center, I realized I had never had the talk with my three-year-old.
No, not the one about the birds and the bees.
The one about men who try to give candy to children or strangers who invite little girls to come play with their puppies in windowless vans.
When McWane is too crowded for my taste, I take my two girls straight for the relatively enclosed Just Mice Size room. There’s only one official entrance and exit, making it easier to contain little wanderers.
Still, when Miss D. took off to climb the castle while I stayed below with her little sister, I started to get nervous. I knew she was just above my head, but I couldn’t see her. I trusted her not to run off (as much as one can trust a three-year-old); it was everyone else in the world I distrusted.
I yelled her name, then scanned the room and took in the women chatting on a bench by the door while their kids played somewhere out of sight. Those mamas weren’t panicking. They didn’t look like their mouths were drying out or as if they were picturing episodes of America’s Most Wanted starring their own families.
I was starting to wonder what their secret was when Miss D. answered me. Her voice came from right above my head. She was just where I thought she was, not being dragged out the front door and into the big, bad world I had never discussed with her.
A moment later, she came barreling down the slide and took off for the water table. Her sister, Belly, and I followed. I tried my best to keep my eyes fastened on Miss D. for the rest of our visit while maintaining a grip on Belly’s little hand. They are both mobile now. They have different interests and vastly different speeds. It is becoming a challenge to keep them together in public play spaces.
And so, it is time to have the talk with Miss D.
I’m dreading it. She is just getting over her fear of dragons and bad fairies. Those things, I have told her repeatedly, are not real.
She listens to the news with me in the car. When reporters start to tally death tolls in far away places, Miss D. says, “Don’t worry, Mama. That’s not real.” I don’t contradict her. I want her to feel safe in the world for as long as possible.
But I know it’s time to have the talk.
I wonder, though, if I could put it off a bit longer and just buy her a really long leash.
Country-Fried Mama is a transplanted Yankee raising two girls in the land of college football, sweet tea, and refined manners. Visit her blog at www.countryfriedmama.com and follow her on Twitter @countryfried.
It’s nice to know I’m not the only mom that freaks out when her kids aren’t in her sight in public places.
The times I’ve freaked out at McWane alone are way too many! I think it’s the “mommy” in us.