You'll Be a Man, My Son...

BB assures me that, yes, he absolutely wants to ride the merry-go-round, and yes, he wants to ride on the motorbike.
Doubtful, I ask him to confirm this wish three times before parting with the 2 euro fee.
Yes, he confirms, nodding his head firmly.

The music erupts, the motor groans to life, the merry-go-round starts to spin... and BB looks anything but merry as he grips white-knuckled to the handlebars of his motorbike.
One turn later, fat tears are starting to drip down his red face.
My little boy.
At this point, two thoughts flit through my head:
1/ You should make him stick out the ride. He'll learn about dealing with the consequences of choices, and it'll make him braver.
2/ You should get him off that thing. He's scared.

Actually, it only takes a fraction of a second for me to elect option no. 2.
I pull him off the bike, the merry-go-round in full spin, crouch down and give him a big, tight hug. I stay like that until he stops sobbing.
I don't care that the other parents are watching - maybe judging - and that some of them, especially the dads, might be thinking: "she's going to raise a wimp with that kind of indulgence..."

I get scared sometimes, too. So who am I to judge?
And, right or wrong, it feels right for me to hug him and say "you don't have to do that if you don't want to. I'll look after you."

The thing is, I can't expect him to be braver than I am. I have spent many many years and a lot of energy trying to "get over" certain fears... and you know, I still find that what helps the most is an understanding, non-judgemental hug and an indulgent "you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

And in the end, we're all just doing the best we can.

Photo taken last summer