天博体育

December vacation was over. The weather had finally calmed down, and kindergarten was back on, so Milo and I were walking. He was ahead of me, as usual. His eyes were on a snow mountain that would soon be climbed, and not on a patch of ice. I decided to help out, and I did. I told him, 鈥淏e careful.鈥�

One more time.

鈥淏e careful鈥� is what I said.

I鈥檓 gonna brag: it鈥檚 Belichick-level genius.

And it wasn鈥檛 my first time. I鈥檝e broken out those three syllables with digging holes, riding a bike, sitting at the table, getting out of the tub, and probably eating a bagel, and I鈥檓 gonna brag again: I don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 ever led to any carefulness.

Helping your child negotiate risk

It shouldn鈥檛 be a surprise. Dr. Joshua Sparrow, child psychiatrist and director of the Brazelton Touchpoints Center based at Harvard-affiliated Boston Children鈥檚 Hospital, says kids learn words through context. If they鈥檙e used in too many contexts, there鈥檚 no meaning. It doesn鈥檛 help that 鈥淏e careful鈥� offers nothing to actually do.

So, I decided that for one week, I wouldn鈥檛 say those two words to my kids, Milo, 6, and Levi, 3. Instead, I鈥檇 strive for specific, possibly even helpful advice. Sparrow offered a couple of other helpful thoughts to consider before I opened my mouth.

• Assess situations and ask, What鈥檚 the worst that could happen? A skinned knee doesn鈥檛 merit much warning.
• There鈥檚 nothing wrong with eliminating unnecessary risks. e.g., standing on top of the coffee table.
• Pay attention to what kids are capable of 鈥� their skills can expand in a matter of hours.

I needed that last one. During the summer, Milo was at the beach near our house and climbing along a stretch of rocks for the first time. I was simultaneously holding my breath and firing off 鈥淏e careful鈥漵, and what I saw (but didn鈥檛 fully accept) was that he was keeping a low center of gravity and scanning where he was going to jump before he did.

So how did I do?

The simple answer is that my experiment was a success. By being conscious of wanting to do this, I chose my words. I slowed down; I shut up more. I was calmer, and I gave Milo some room. We went out on our bikes on Saturday morning of Day Two. Milo鈥檚 a good rider and the street was quiet, so I kept quiet. He fell, but he got back up and the ride continued.

When he was standing too close to the street waiting to cross, I leaned in and said, 鈥淭ake a step back toward me.鈥� I only had to say it once. When we were walking home from school 鈥� no sidewalks 鈥� and a car was coming from behind, I asked, 鈥淲hat do you hear?鈥� He turned around and stepped up onto the grass.

I don鈥檛 know if I was building his situational awareness. Dr. Sparrow doesn鈥檛 know either, but because I was talking a lot less, it鈥檚 possible that Milo had less reason to tune me out. As Sparrow says, being heard is as much about delivery, tone, curiosity, and positive intent as any words.

On the other hand鈥�

So overall, I鈥檇 love to say that the week was Father of the Year highlight reel stuff. But it wasn鈥檛 all that straightforward. On the afternoon of Day Two, Milo, Levi and I were exploring an old cemetery in town, walking up rocks in a gentle hill. It was nothing extreme. I wasn鈥檛 saying anything and everyone was being, yes, careful. I was holding Levi鈥檚 hand and then my outside foot slipped. I came down onto Levi, forcing him onto a rock.

He got a gash on his forehead, an emergency room visit, and four stitches. I know that it was an accident, which barely kept me from feeling completely awful. But after the cookies, popsicles, a few trucks, and a respite from hair washing, I saw that Levi was all right.

And I realized that it was an accident. It was an awful one. I鈥檓 thankful it was only four stitches, and I wish that it had never happened. But it did, as will others, and my kids can鈥檛 be kept inside until graduation.

That week, we were back to school. On Monday, Milo and I walked home, which turned into running. The other days, he biked both there and back. He knows the way and he knows that he has to look around before he crosses an intersection. I was behind him, and I shut up. He didn鈥檛 need the reminder.