Sometimes, my husband is a saint. He agreed to take Zion and Daniel, my friend D.'s son, to the skate park today. It is a kind gesture because I've been gone at the Port Townsend Writer's Workshop all week and I've just come home. I wanted to spend some time with D. while Zion and Daniel had a play date, so this was a good solution, and Charles was great about it.

Turns out D. didn't want Daniel to go with Charles and Zion at all. Not because she doesn't trust Charles, but because she doesn't know what to do when she can't watch Daniel for every second. She's concerned about what he might do: talk to strangers, run out in the street, maybe eat a hot dog (they're vegan). She had a multitude of concerns I couldn't even begin to list but her husband, E., is the voice of reason and put his foot down. Daniel spent the afternoon with Charles and Zion and returned unscathed.

It's hard for parents of children who are developmentally (or otherwise) delayed to let go. We want to micromanage them to prevent them from getting hurt or being taken advantage of. Life is full of rough spots and broken hearts. Do we deny our kids the opportunity to learn how to recover? Do we remove every obstacle in their paths so that even they don't know what they can accomplish?

I know D. has a really good heart. She loves Daniel and worries about him constantly. We spent the afternoon shopping and encouraging each other. It's nice to know we're in it together.