Riding the Trapeze

We had a lovely time in Chicago.  The little angel not only modeled her tank/sarong swimwear, but she also actually got in a big pool for the very first time.  When we took her to the Shedd Aquarium on Saturday, you could almost see the synapses shooting new connections.  She learned:

• Fish come in different sizes.
• Black lights are cool.
• Food courts incorporate all sorts of examples of the human race, some of them cleaner and quieter than others.
• Tourists are the most annoying sorts of people.
• Jellyfish are God's gift to hallucinogenic drug users.

She was so good, especially considering on the way back we got caught in a three-hour line in Chicago's Midway airport. It turns out about 25 members of the TSA called in sick on Saturday in July in Chicago.  Thanks, George, for tightening airport security in such a useful fashion.  I was amazed at how polite and restrained most of the air travelers were, especially those who got to wait in their lines outside in the 90-degree heat.  We exhausted our entire toddler grab-bag in the three hour lines, along with our snack supply, so by the time we got on the blessed airplane, the little angel was a bit stressed. 

By that time, however, I had already retreated into my happy place and had mostly managed to disconnect my cogent self from my surroundings.  At the point when I was holding her straight up in the air, allowing her to flail, scream and kick me in the chest while she threw a mid-air temper tantrum, I found myself thinking how as parents we must restrict the child's independence for her own good.  Then I started thinking how parenting is sort of like being the safety harness for a trapeze artist:  We protect them until they learn to fly alone.