Behind the Ironic Column

There was some weak, intermittent sun today — so I ventured out to the Park Blocks to soak up what little Vitamin D there was.  Several other people had the same idea.  It’s the weekend, and at least halfway nice, so no point in staying inside. 

As I’m sitting on my bench, sipping coffee from the Starbucks across the way and flipping through the paper, I hear pieces of conversation from the people around me.  Two women on the bench closest to me are deep in an intense conversation about something.  Whatever it is seems to be serious, but I haven’t heard enough to give me a clue.  The blonde closest to me seems to be arguing a point with her friend.  They’re both dressed in a standard Portland uniform of sweats and running shoes with rain jackets. They look to be in their mid-thirties.  There are a couple of little boys not far away who seem to be with them — both women are keeping at least one eye turned in the direction of the boys who are discussing a squirrel which is on a tree limb safely above their heads.  They’re hoping it will come back down, but I don’t think the squirrel will be that foolish. 

I realize that what they’re talking about is children — very likely their own.  Then blonde number one says “but it’s important to let the child bleed.”  I almost say “what?” before I remember this is none of my business.  They’re only talking and there’s no blood in evidence anywhere.  Still, it seems a very weird thing to say.  She’s talking about letting the child make the decision about what’s most important to him.  What does all that have to do with bleeding.  There’s no way a kid the age of their sons can make any decision about something that involves loss of blood.  At this point, I’m only pretending to read the paper since I really want to find out what they mean. I’ve been known to insert myself into conversations in the park, but usually I only do that with people who look receptive or in discussions that are about movies or books or restauants.  This conversation seems more personal and I wouldn’t want to interrupt.  The one who’s making the point is again talking about how the child has to be able to be a child, to make his own choices and not be constantly directed by adults, even if he is doing something badly or doing it the hard way. 

I’m still puzzled about how this justifies bloodshed when my ears suddenly click in.  What she said was “lead” not “bleed” — as in, let the child lead his own experiences.  The high pollen count that’s been fuzzing my brain has struck again — I didn’t quite hear what I thought I did.  Sitting here reading the crime news, “bleed” seemed like the word but it wasn’t.   Let the child lead.  Absolutely, I can agree with that.  It still might involve a little incidental bleeding when they fall off the skateboard or bicycle, but that’s OK.   Relieved, I go back to reading about mayhem elsewhere in the world.

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