I have a sneaking suspicion that playing outside with a stick is the most beneficial, character building, and important thing my boys can do with their time.
So why do I have to bite my tongue every time I peek out the window? Don't climb that! Careful! Don't break it! Watch out for his eyes! What are you throwing? Let's leave those there. You need to put shoes on!
They spring forth from my mouth without warning. Who is this worrywart and doesn't she have something else to do?
Sigh... I had every intention to not become a helicopter parent. I have to admit, though, that a nice, quiet book is so much less anxiety-producing.