I truly believe that the safety of my daughter is contingent on me saying “be careful” sometimes loudly and repeatedly at her. I find that I am yelling it always and often in the middle of acts of scootering, tripping, running, climbing and really during any foolish forward movement. I feel that I need to be super close to her ears when this is said, so to orchestrate this “be safe” mantra takes some quick thinking sometimes. I am certain she hears my screaming “be careful” voice in her sleep.
When this is said, she is fine… always. I do worry what happens when she is not with me. However, my theory is she will be fine because I say “be careful” so often and with such intensity that the universe has no choice but to back the fuck off and let Ella pass by unscathed, mostly. This is the unspoken deal that we have. I will trade some of my sanity, and some brown or red or what ever the heck my hair color is for a few more grays.
I realize that I forgot to say “be careful” today as I am watching her during her weekly horse riding lesson. Why does she choose to appreciate such a large animal? I am much more comfortable with her choice to ride a sheep at the county fair. I might be more likely to whisper “be careful” to the sheep instead of Ella, maybe. But as for today I need to make things right and honor my agreement with this universe. My present dilemma is how do I get close enough to say “be careful” without spooking the horse and avoid getting trampled? Perhaps, the universe will just let this one slid, since I tend to have these two words covered most of the time? I do wonder how parents of professional athletes do it aside from signing their souls over to the devil or with Chunky Soup. I am certain that my “be careful” agreement would have to get pumped up with some type of steroid in order for it or me to survive. However, as for today I am wading across a field against my better judgment to mutter two words that might be my last. Next week Ella will be riding a pony, a miniature horse, or a carousel.