As the first snowfall of winter blanketed our area this past weekend, excitement filled my home. Thoughts of building snowmen, sledding down hills, and enjoying hot cocoa with marshmallows danced in my mind. The local golf course transformed into a winter wonderland, attracting families eager to embrace the season’s joys. Although we weren’t technically allowed to be there, the allure of perfect snow was too enticing to resist. It must be experienced, with cheeks flushed red from the cold and smiles as bright as the glistening white landscape.
The day before the anticipated snowstorm, my partner ventured out to find new sleds. Cheap plastic versions were unacceptable; we needed quality equipment for optimal sledding fun. After searching through four stores, we finally found the perfect sleds.
I bundled my children in warm, cozy outfits and sent them off with their dad. Sledding at the golf course is not my favorite activity. The cold is unappealing, and the crowds make it feel dangerous. I cringe at the thought of teenagers taking reckless risks, darting up the hills as others race down. Many children lack helmets, and supervision is often absent. The thrill of it all sometimes comes with a sense of dread.
Typically, the close calls lead to nervous laughter and relief, but this time was different. What should have been a near miss turned into a tragic accident. In an instant, a joyful little girl who had been gleefully sledding was suddenly silent, her fate altered forever. Witnesses, including many adults, had long acknowledged the risks associated with the slopes, but like so many small risks we often take in life—sending a quick text while driving, briefly leaving a child unattended, or allowing a few kids to jump on a trampoline—we assume nothing catastrophic will occur.
How could anything happen on such a beautiful day? How could it happen to such an innocent child? Tragically, it did. There were several injuries that day, and it could have easily been my children or yours. Now, I find myself praying for the recovery of that sweet third grader.
From this moment forward, my children will no longer be allowed to go sledding, or snowboarding, or biking in the street, or jumping on beds. The list of restricted activities seems endless.
As much as I wish I could create a protective bubble around my children to shield them from every potential injury—be it physical or emotional—I understand that this is not feasible. Life is meant to be lived, laughter is essential, and yes, sometimes we must sled down those hills. But from now on, we’ll be practicing risk management—helmets are a must.
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In summary, while it’s natural to want to protect our children from all harm, we must find a balance. Life involves risks, and learning to navigate them is part of growing up.