Tan Lines

My 17-month-old baby has tan lines. We are here at Lake Tahoe on our annual pilgrimage to the Warford family cabin, and Sara Sue has spent enough time down at the beach that you can tell where her bathing suit straps are on her back. I find myself conflicted by this. My instinct is: "She's spending too much time in the sun!" But after thinking about it a while, I realize: "She's having fun down there!" In some ways I enjoy taking risks and having an adventurous side, but I think most of me is fairly risk averse. I'm just a cautious person, prefering to think things through before acting. As with most things, there are benefits and pitfalls with this practice. But presently we're talking about raising my daughter. I desperately want to find out where that fine line is between hovering over her every move to make sure she's safe (my instinct) and letting her find life on her own terms, which usually means scraped knees, hurt feelings, and the proverbial lessons learned the hard way. I wish I was wiser than I am, because right now it seems I am destined to mess up my perfect child. Of course, I'm in good company - every other parent on the planet has done the same thing.