We’re not helicopter parents. Oh no, not us.
When my 27 year old son recently left for Bangladesh to volunteer in an orphanage for three months, my husband and I drove him to the airport. My husband dropped us off at the departure gate while he parked the car.
My son and I busied ourselves getting the suitcases on a trolley and then sailed into the airport so he could check his baggage. I clucked around a stand filling out lost suitcase forms for him and when my husband arrived he wanted to know if our son would like him to accompany him to the check-in desk. My son shrugged his shoulders and indicated that would be fine, thought the better of it, and refused his offer.
While my son was checking in, my husband had his beagle eye on him during the entire procedure, watching for the slightest hint of a movement that would indicate something had gone wrong. I asked him to look at me, not our son, and suggested we should turn our backs to him. Our son could take care of himself.
We walked with him to the security gate and hugged him good-bye. He turned and was gone.
On the way home, we reminded ourselves what we had done at his age. My husband was leading a small crew in ground geophysics in Brazil and at a younger age, I had traveled in Europe and hitchhiked across Canada. We know our concern is misplaced.
So we make sure we’re not helicopter parents. We would never do something like that. Oh no, not us!
Have you any experience with helicopter parenting? Please let me know by responding in the Reply Box below.