You can buy a couple of different kinds of toddler helmets - this shouldn't surprise you - meant to protect the precious heads of wobbly new walkers. Some are foam and decorated with animal ears. Some are inflatable.
I found one in a catalogue and showed my husband, thinking we'd share a laugh. I should have known better.
“Say, how much is that thing?” he asked. And then, “Yes, yes, as a matter of fact, I would wrap her in bubble wrap if I could, if that's what you're asking.”
We've all got our bugaboos. Car travel scares me to smithereens. My husband cut the kids' Cheerios in half for the longest time, fearing they might be a choking hazard. I think what we do is take our worst fear - the unthinkable - and distill it into a couple of more or less controllable things. “I can't prevent everything,” the thinking goes, “but at least I can have the best-installed car seat in the metro area.”
But you know what I'm really afraid of? Passing that fear along to my kids. On our last plane trip together, my 3-year-old took the safety instruction sheet out of the pocket and asked me to read it to her. I told her it didn't have much of a plot, but she still wanted to know what it was. “It's, um - sometimes you have to get off the plane really, really fast and this is how you do it.” I was stymied: I couldn't even bring myself to use the words “danger” or “emergency.” I didn't want her scared. I didn't want to be scared for her.
I want her to get on a lot of airplanes in her lifetime. Someday, I want her to go as far away as an airplane will take her, just to see what kind of adventure she finds there. But, as a parent, I'm still learning to walk that tightrope between protecting her and giving her the confidence to take on the world.
