My Intrepid Scout

My girl is an intrepid scout. She explores, investigates and examines faster than anyone I've ever encountered. She is definitively precocious and possesses a confidence in her adventures I, as an adult woman, envy and admire. Her middle name, after all, is Scout.

My husband and I have remarked several times over the last fifteen months how she seemed to name herself in this department. Yes, we wanted her to be a curious and compassionate leader, unafraid to walk her own path and to champion those in need. We've talked about how we will encourage this part of her identity as she grows. But we're very aware that she's already got this in her. She's already a Scout and she's barely just begun.

The picture above cracks me up. I take Stella to the park almost daily. She knows our neighborhood playground almost as well as our house. It's her digs, man, and she'll show you around with pleasure. What cracks me up is her sense of poise and confidence as she tromps through the grand expanses of what would be to most a very large park. Stella simply starts walking. She goes for it. And before I know it, she's on the other side of a block-long park without hesitation. In fact, she seems to be on a mission of sorts.

(I know it's tough to see her in these shots. She's so tiny. That's the point: she's SO tiny!)


She could be walking to walk. She might just be enjoying the freedom of running around in the crisp fall air. She may be looking for something fun to hold or examine. In any case, she's off and running before I know it.

And as long as she's safe, I let her.

I really can't hold this one back. I've tried, and I always end up chasing a determined kid in a way that makes me look and feel like an overly paranoid first-time mama. (And I proudly admit to that status on most accounts.)

All of this makes me realize the differences between what I thought it would be like to raise an independent and spirited child and what it's really like. One of my daily mantras is "Nurture and encourage her, Katherine, not some textbook version of your child." Stella the Scout indeed.

This usually comes easy. But I have moments where I fall prey to fretful anxiety. I worry that she'll feel the harsh criticism of those who fear natural leaders. I worry that I might give her too much space to explore and she'll feel disconnected or unsafe. Mainly, I just worry she'll get hurt.

I guess that's the deal with parenting. Beneath all that worry is my legitimate question of whether I will equip my child with the necessary skills to get up and brush herself off after she stumbles. Because she will stumble. And in many ways, I sort of want her to stumble. Not yet, of course. She's got plenty of time for all that. But I know the biggest and best lessons I've learned in life - the ones that have really stuck - stem from my many stumbles.

Intellectually I get all this. But I still worry she'll get hurt.

And then I see her walking in that park again. She's still cracking me up, all bravado and fervor. But then she looks back for a quick check-in.

Yup, Mama is still there. Forge on.

She reminds me of my role from a distance but with grace and finesse.