Walking Away

 "Helppppp!  Mommy help!  Mommy come help me!"

I looked in the direction from which the cries of distress emanated and spotted my 4 year old daughter on the ledge of a building.  No, it was not a building ledge like you see in the movies in New York City.  It was a wide, brick window sill adorning a tall window in our local empty town hall building about four feet off the ground.  She and her sister had climbed up and, not being blessed with Bella's monkeylike gymnastic skills, Lizzy was too afraid to get down.

I walked over to assess the situation.  Balancing my 3 month old son on one arm, I decided that this was one of those critical teaching moments.  I could a) pick her up and set her on the ground, b) coach her through how to descend safely, or c) walk away and risk a sprained ankle.  I asked her if she would like me to tell her how to get down.  "No!  Take me down! I can't get down!" she wailed, tears running down her dusty face and dripping on the red and white bricks.

I did one of the hardest things it is for a mother to do.  I calmly told her, "Lizzy, I believe you can get down all by yourself."  And I walked away from my sobbing daughter, leaving her in a predicament. Crossing the grass, I looked back.  She was huddled up on the ledge, sucking her thumb.  

Five minutes later I heard a small voice and felt someone tug my hand.  "Mommy! Mommy!"  It was Lizzy, her whole face wreathed in smiles.  "I did it!  I got down by myself!  I DID IT!!!"  She was practically dancing with glee, her newfound self confidence beaming out of her countenance.  In that moment I was overwhelmed with pride and relief, and renewed confidence in my decision to walk away.

I could have helped her down.  I could have robbed her of that sense of accomplishment and the invaluable can-do attitude.  I would have felt the satisfaction of a mother helping her baby through a difficulty, but that would have been selfish.  I don't want to raise helpless children who are a burden to society.  I want to raise strong, skilled, confident sons and daughters who can take care of not only themselves but others as well.

Connor Park, Canyon TX. Photography by Katie