Life Socks

Who doesn't love running around corners, sliding around like some sort of super ninja? We've all done it. If there was a square foot of linoleum, hard wood, or tile in your house you did it. If you didn't, you totally suppressed the urge to do so. I can only imagine what kind of baggage you've picked up since then. Suppressing one the of happiest of childhood activities. You probably have no sharp corners in your house and have organized everything alphabetically. If you have, can you come and do my cupboards? I'm not repressed enough to tackle something of that scale.

You can talk about our childhood memories in the context of "free range parenting" if you like. I'd rather not. I'd hate to take a fond memory and make it an "issue". Something to be debated on, picked apart, analyzed for the "what ifs". Some memories are meant to be that and only that. They deserve a certain amount of respect not to be superimposed on our lives now. Does it really matter what we as parents would have done? Or for that matter, what we do do? (Yes I said "do do", get over it you children!) I'm not saying that everything we did as children ran the risk of decapitation or abduction. Some memories are harmless and warm and fuzzy; like the socks. Unless of course you were holding scissors at the time, that was probably a bad idea and you're lucky you didn't loose an eye. Seriously, what was your mother doing?

I have lots of fond memories growing up. Some are harmless and others make me cringe as a parent. If my mother and father knew everything we got up to, they would probably faint. It doesn't mean I need to pick them apart or repeat them with my own kids. It's nice to have something that remains in the past and is remembered for what it is. A nice warm memory, just like fluffy socks. If it happens to make you want to jump around like a ninja, more power to you.