So I biked down a steep country road (and hit a car). I sledded down an icy hill (and hit a tree). I don’t remember my parents freaking out; they seemed to understand that mishaps were part of childhood. I got a few stitches, and kept biking and sledding. Misadventures meant that I should try again. With each triumph over fear and physical adversity, I gained confidence.
This is important for all kids. Grateful that my mother let me do anything I wanted – I climbed trees and fell, rode a moped and crashed into a wall, biked, swam, ran barefoot, played soccer with the boys, and broke many, many bones.
Like the author, my mother supported me. Unlike the author, her mother supported her. A line of outliers.