YO MAMA: Letting the string out slowly
OPINION
The sky was near black as the little kite climbed up, up, up. It whipped left and right, energetically zigzagging upwards as if climbing a set of switchbacks. Brand new out of the package and oh so perky.
Then the wind stopped and the kite nosedived. I tried to save it with some quick tugs but it was too late. Down, down, down it came like an osprey after a fish.
My toddler charged over and lifted up the kite triumphantly.
“More!” he shouted.
We tried again. This time we got it up a bit higher for just a little bit longer. Then down it fell again.
“More! More! More!”
This was part of the fun and the repetition. We all had a job in the operation: my son was the spotter, running over to retrieve the fallen kite. My husband held it high up above his head in the starting position, and I was the runner.
With each ascent, my son shrieked in delight, completely enraptured. Again, and again, and again.
On our 15th or 25th try, the kite went up and stayed up. We all looked at each other in giddy disbelief. We’d found the sweet spot. My heart leaped into my throat each time it careened towards a tree. Suddenly, I was 10 years old again and the shame of getting my kite snarled in a tree was a hot prickle on the back of my neck.
I let out a little more line. Up the kite went, pulling like a dog on a leash.
More, more, more.
There was a strong tug on the line now. The feeling reminded me of my son holding my hand, pulling me towards some new point of interest. He was always trying to get just a few more steps out into the world before we had to go back home.
There is something magical about tying a piece of fabric onto a string and hoping it might fly. So much possibility and excitement. Statistically, you fail most of the time but you keep trying because the reward is so great. Although you have some control, you’re also kind of winging it. There are moments of fear, frustration and pure joy.
The same can be said about parenting.
And that little kite, so full of optimism and joy, not caring how many times it fell to the ground. That is my son. Racing headlong into the wind, falling down, and getting back up with a huge grin. Every day, the invisible string gets let out a little more as his independence grows.
By now, it was starting to get really ugly out. There were mean thunderclouds rolling in and little spits of rain starting to come down. The rainbow kite fluttered like a defiant butterfly.
It’s a big, scary world out there.
All we can do is hold on tight and watch out for trees.
— Charlotte Helston gave birth to her first child, a rambunctious little boy, in the spring of 2021. Yo Mama is her weekly reflection on the wild, exhilarating, beautiful, messy, awe-inspiring journey of parenthood.
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