Why I Let My Daughter Get Her Hands Dirty

My daughter has barely entered the toddler years, but since the moment she opened her eyes and realized where she was – she’s been curious.

Curious to the point of exhaustion and awe, on my part.

Now that she’s mobile, independent, and growing more inquisitive by the day, I’ve realized I have two choices here: I can either turn up the anxiety, strap a helmet on her head, and chase her around with a tub full of antibacterial hand gel – or I can chill. Relax. And by relax, I mean, let the girl play, get dirty, fall down and scrap her knee, and learn a thing or two from all of it.

All too often, I encounter the mom who is so intent on keeping her child in the “bubble” that I find her driving herself nuts to prevent the inevitable. Keeping your child out of crowded shopping malls, less than pristine ball-pits, and far away from play dates with kids who attend day care may help a bit to keep the germs away – for now – but it won’t be long before your child is in school or at a birthday party where, heaven forbid, these germs get the best of them.

Why I Let My Daughter Get Her Hands Dirty Continued...

Apart from the whole germ-debate, I am implying that I also let my daughter get her hands dirty in the metaphorical sense as well. I let her climb up on that dining room chair – so that she learns that once she’s stuck up there with no idea of how to get down, she’ll know to hold off next time she feels the urge for adventure.

I let her run through the park when I know she’ll likely stumble, and this is not because I am some demon of a mother. The first time my daughter scraped her knee, she cried for a second or two – and each time thereafter, she stood up, shook it off, and kept running. Now if only I could teach her to handle the rest of her life in this manner!

Of course my life would be so much easier if I never had to watch my daughter deal with a bad case of the sniffles. It pains me to see her sick. My heart breaks over the “ouch” cry – the one that comes a few seconds after the thud that just stopped you in your tracks.

But on the flip side – I love the smiles and giggles that pour out of my daughter when she’s engaged with other children. I live for the look of pride on her face when she figures out how to do something new (even if that means I’ll be cleaning up a big mess later on).

Call me crazy, but I know that these lessons of “life is not perfect and I can’t always keep you safe from harm,” will help to minimize the notion of “My mommy and daddy will do anything for me so that my life can be easy,” once my daughter grows up and the real drama starts to build up.

I was always taught that life is going to throw curveballs at you whether you’re ready for them or not – and while the first person I call during these times is still my mother – it’s always been up to me to get myself out of my own messes.

I’m stronger for this – and I’d like to think my daughter will be as well.