As I child, I stuck close to my mother’s side and took forever to venture outside my comfort zone. To this day I have to push myself to take risks. My daughter is so drastically different. She is fearless. Literally fear-less. She’s not afraid of anything. Not one single thing.
This is both a beautiful blessing and a soul crushing curse. My soul — the kid scares the beejesus out of me.
Stranger danger is non-existent for her. Falling off a ledge or jumping from her moving bike? Not a worry. Separation anxiety? Ha. She’s been handed over to her grandparents or a friend and parted with an exuberant “See ya!” since she could wave.
Roller coasters, spiders, snakes or wasps, spooky costumes, a needle wielding doctor or a dentist’s drill, or an unexpected “boo” from a sneaky sibling … none of these raise a dainty eyebrow.
Avery comes by her “Bravery” nickname honestly – she’s a braveheart and dare I say, a bit of a nit wit. Seriously, who rides down a flight of stairs in a laundry basket, and opts for headfirst down the slide EVERY time, and rides her brother’s skateboard on her tummy backwards down the driveway shouting, “Weeeeeeee! I Supergirl!”?
Oh yes, my girl child.
She lives to explore and take risks. How much of this is due to her personality — so different from my cautious approach to childhood — and how much results from her genetic deletion disorder? I have no idea, but I would guess it’s about 50/50. And it’s also the cause of 50% of my grey hair.