Many many months ago, when the true impact of having and ambulatory child was still all theoretical for us, Mr. Right-Click and I were discussing the necessity of eventually getting a leash for Mini. Mr. Right-Click argued that we were going to be in serious trouble once the kid could run and get away from us, especially when we were out in public and trying to multitask. He felt that, given that no kind of remote control with a toddler pause and rewind button has been invented (yet), a leash was the only way to handle this potential problem, and cited the many people we have seen out in The World using leashes for their children as evidence for the acceptance of this practice by Society at Large.
I don’t think I need to tell you that I was vehemently opposed to the idea of leashing my child. First of all, I always think of kids with leashes as the same ones who have to wear helmets so that they don’t hurt themselves while just walking around. And no child of mine . . . uh . . . well, yeah, now that I think of it, a helmet might not be such a bad idea, since you never know when a toddler will fall over and bang their head. Like, say, when they’re eating their Morningstar Farms vegetable scrambles–you know, the things that look like chicken nuggets but are actually made of vegetables, that I love to use to trick Mini into eating stuff that isn’t made of cheese or meat–and take a header off the side of a platform bed, which is only like two inches off the ground to begin with.
I digress. What I mean to say is: if we start leashing our kids . . . why, next thing you know we’re going to be carrying little plastic baggies around to dispose of their poo. Wait. And what is after that? Chew toys? Wait.
So now Mini has been walking for a while and he can pretty much run, though it’s more of a shuffling movement, where his chest sticks out way in front of him and the threat of falling is particularly pronounced. And I’ll admit that it’s hard to keep up with him, particularly when your energy level is as piss poor as mine. Like when we went to the bank the other day, and I’m dealing with the teller, and I look away from Mini for one half of one millisecond to get money from the teller. And when I look back down, he has vanished! VANISHED, I say! Then I turn around in a circle really fast like the Tazmanian Devil or some other cartoon character whose legs are moving so fast they can’t catch any traction–looking for him, desperately, a caricature of the frazzled mother-to-young-child. At length–like a good 2-3 seconds later–I finally spot him right next to the giant, life-sized stuffed animal horse toy that I have to assume Wells Fargo puts in its branches to tempt errant
drunken elf tyrants toddlers and to torture me. He was pointing at it saying, “This. This. THIS.”Of course.
Alright. I guess I have to say it. Dude needs a leash.
What do you guys think? Do you leash your children? Would you could you in a mall? Would you could you dare at all?