The Lessons We Learn By Falling
We are blessed to live on a street with a lot of kids ranging in age from 2 to 8 with a mix of boys and girls. My boys are always fascinated with the older kids and love to get their bikes out and ride around the street with the little biker gang that has formed. The parents gather around to ensure everyone is on a sidewalk if a car is coming, but otherwise, we get to socialize and catch up. This last week, the older kids made a ramp off the front stairs leading to the driveway using some plywood and a concrete block (clever!). The kids organized themselves in a line and started riding down the ramp with a “wee!” and a big smile on their faces. My youngest was off to the side watching for quite a while before I saw him tug his bike up the steps to start going down. One of the dads was standing by the ramp at first to ensure tires were centered before releasing the child to ride down, but after a few successful runs, we all had stepped back.
It was my 2.5-year-old’s turn to go down the ramp, and I stood by, gripping my arms in a tight hug as I watched from the side and tried to play it cool. Bikes and I have a troubled history that has led to some less-than-desirable fears around my boys and cycling. When I was 8, I crashed my bike while riding down a big hill and landed on my handlebar so hard that I split my pancreas in two. I ended up in and out of the hospital in critical condition for 3 months and kept a hefty fear of bikes for 30 years. Watching my boys take on biking has been a lesson in letting go, to say the least. I could have held onto his bike as he went down each time, or forbade him from going down at all — both of those are definitely what the scared part of me wanted to do, but I also know that in the long run, that’s a big disservice to my son. I understand the only way he will learn to trust himself and become a confident rider is to give him opportunities to trust himself and figure out his own limits. So I let him go down the ramp, unassisted. He loved it. He was bursting with pride and immediately tugged his bike back up the stairs to go again.
The story could wrap up nicely there. “See? Nothing to worry about; let your kids do hard things.” But that’s not the end of the lesson. The truth is, he DID end up falling off the side. To his credit, he’s a really good faller — he has great form. He caught himself with his hands and feet and stood up, he was a bit shaken up and needed a little comfort. Here’s the important lesson: I could have seen that fall as a sign to end the activity, to wrap it up and say, “You aren’t ready for the ramp,” or “It’s too dangerous,” but instead, I provided comfort and then let him decide if he wanted to try again. He immediately went back up to try the ramp again and was beaming when he made it down.
When we “rescue” our kids from the tough stuff, from the falls and scrapes, it can feel like we are protecting them and doing our job, but what is happening is an interruption in the brain circuitry necessary for assessing risk, and managing scary/unpredictable events. If we intervene without letting them assess the situation and try again if they want to, we can risk creating fears around events unnecessarily. He walked away from the experience not with the message, “That ramp was too scary or big for me,” but with the message, “I was brave and kept trying.” What a powerful difference from a small change in action. Events get logged in our memory as “traumatic” not just when they are scary, but when we are left without resolution. We can help give our kids a resolution by talking to them about what happened, and when appropriate, giving them the opportunity to try it again. This will be a life-long reminder as I battle my internal urge to keep them from harm, but I know it will pay off long term in them trusting themself and understanding how to assess situations.
Take a small baby step and try not to intervene the next time your kid attempts something new. If they get hurt allow space for comfort and talking about what happened, but then, try asking them if THEY want to try again or take a break. You might be surprised at how your kid knows their own limits.