'Daft, counter-productive and pointless': Life as a catastrophist mum

Ben Fogle and his wife Marina's parenting style has recently made the headlines, with their penchant for providing their children with whittling knives and access to fire. It seems a little extreme to me, though my brother and all the boys I knew growing up had penknives in their back pockets, and they weren't in gangs or stabbing kids - they attempted to make arrows and gouged swear words in wooden furniture!

 

But despite getting Fogle's point of view - that it is no use cosseting children so that they can't handle the world - I can't subscribe.

 

Because I'm a catastrophist, in a family of catastrophists. We are a multi-generational dynasty of worry warts. My grandmother thought a child's arms were bound to pop out of their sockets if you picked them up or swung them around by the arms. My mother fears that our pet bunnies will scratch out the eyes of her grandchildren. My cousin thinks going anywhere near a hill is asking to plunge off a cliff, and my sister thinks someone will trip into the new rhinoceros enclosure at Fota Island.

 

 

I fear choking hazards. I slice blueberries in half, and tut tut when the school serves whole grapes at the end of year celebration. I am the parent who Googles which part of the car is safest for the car seat - rear left? Rear right? Rear middle?

 

But I need to 'Fogle' it a bit. I need to rein in my tendency to worry about the worst. This dawned on me when my friend laughed out loud at my litany of dire warnings to the five-year-old. Don't stand behind that parked car, it could roll back and squash you. Don't kick that wall, what if there's a wasp nest? Never run on tarmac, the skin will be peeled off you if you fall.

 

I recognise that my behaviour is daft, counter-productive and pointless. So, I'm going to concentrate on keeping my worries quiet unless they truly need to be heard. But will I be handing out pen knives? No. No I won't.