Leashed!

I admit it.  Before Three, I was one of those silent judgers.  You know, the ones who look at other parents with their kids on a leash and wonder, "How difficult is it to keep track of a toddler?"  I smugly looked at my two girls riding in the double stroller and patted myself on the back for my excellent parenting skills.

Turns out, the bigger girls were just a tad bit lazy.  And a bit timid when they were young.  Three is a whole new ballgame.  She. Has. No. Fear.  None.  We once had a standoff at the zoo where she stood in place while I slowly walked away.  I never did figure out how far away she'd let me walk--my brother freaked out at 40 paces and scooped her up.

Three's also very physical. She doesn't fear the water.  She's not that into the stroller.  She asked to go on the biggest roller coasters and rides. She is curious.  Three hasn't met a barrier she hasn't touched, tried to climb or licked.  Seriously.  I often find myself saying, "Please don't lick that fence.  Please don't taste that fire hydrant! Please don't taste that handrail.  No licking the slide! Please keep your tongue in your mouth." Yikes.

Three is not content to hold my hand and walk beside me.  Three likes to bolt.  Eventually, she'll look up and try to locate us.  If she doesn't see us right away, she cries and freaks out.  Unfortunately, this hasn't stopped her from zooming away.

She engages complete strangers in conversation.  No stranger danger at all.  Case in point on the rental car bus where she told a lady, "You have BIG Boobies."  Another case in point, she lifted up her arms to be picked up by Darth Maul in the Jedi Training Show ("Pick me evil man!  I will be your partner in crime!  Can you please provide me with a weapon, preferably a sword or lightsaber?")  But I digress.

In preparation for our trip to San Diego and Disneyland, I bought a leash.  I bought the leash that looked most functional and cool. I was not going to buy one of those stuffed animal deals.  How humiliating and hot--who wants a hairy stuffed animal on their back in California's heat?

Well, we got looks.  Dirty looks.  In addition to the normal silent judgers about the leash were the folks who I'm sure were horrified that we only leashed the black child.  Once the strangers started in with  the weird remarks ("You have such a unique family!"), I was feeling pretty embarrassed. But then I started exchanging looks with the other leasher parents.  We smiled and nodded as if to say, "Oh, yes, I feel your pain.  Mine likes to run out into traffic, too!" "I've had to call poison control three times.  And you?"  "Welcome to the crappy parenting club-- might I offer you a sip of wine?"

I found myself explaining to complete strangers, "She's a bolter!  No fear. Ha ha."  But then I thought about it.  I stopped apologizing for keeping my child safe.  Allowing Three some independence while keeping her close was the right thing to to.  Three loved her "backpack" and the freedom it gave her to walk and explore apart from us. She keeps asking to wear it at home.

In the end, I'm comfortable with our choice and I think Three is, too.

** I also bought these great temporary tattoos with our phone number on them.  They gave me peace of mind that if she did get away, people could locate us quickly.