Picture this: a child, my 3-year-old, is clambering up a six-foot metal ladder, his arms waving excitedly as if he’s about to take flight. Suddenly, a woman appears, panic etched across her face. “Do you know whose child that is?” she gasps.
“He’s mine,” I reply, noting her astonishment. “He’s been climbing since he was two.”
Her expression says it all—she’s a hoverer. And with her on the lookout, I know I’ll have to keep one eye on my kids to avoid her judgmental gaze. Thanks for spoiling my playdate, lady.
At the Park, There Are Two Types of Parents
I frequently take my kids to the park for various reasons: they can socialize, learn to navigate their world, and test their physical limits. They try to climb, run, scream, and make friends—all while I chat with fellow moms from a comfortable distance. That’s my park routine. I don’t go to play with them; I’m there to let them explore on their own. Apparently, this behavior makes me a target for the other kind of parent—the hoverers.
These parents don’t just sit on benches. They come to the park with a singular mission: to engage in play with their kids, and they do it with an intensity that leaves no room for independence. They are right there, guiding their little ones up the stairs, down the slide, and making sure every movement is safe. No climbing the slide, no testing boundaries, and certainly no skinned knees.
The padded surfaces and rounded edges of playgrounds aren’t enough for these moms. They need to be right there, arms wide open, ready to catch any potential tumbles. They strictly stick to age recommendations and unintentionally ruin the experience for others.
It usually unfolds like this: I’m sitting with a group of like-minded moms, one of whom is even knitting. Suddenly, my child attempts to climb a platform meant for larger kids. “Where’s your mommy?” I hear the high-pitched voice say. “I’ll help you.” Cue the stink-eye directed at me.
This means I have to get up and assist my child because if he can’t get up there by himself, he certainly won’t be able to come down safely.
These hoverers also shadow my kids like hawks when they engage in risky play. They look for someone to blame if anything goes wrong. “He’s making me nervous,” they might chuckle awkwardly.
They rigidly enforce unwritten park rules that everyone else seems to ignore: “Up the stairs and down the slide,” they proclaim. They’ll watch my kids until I finally intervene and say, “Let’s not climb up the slide, kiddos.” Climbing up the slide is half the fun, especially when there’s no line!
There are rules about no sticks, no wrestling, no throwing pinecones—even when they aren’t aimed at anyone. And heaven forbid they get dirty.
I don’t visit the park to parent. I’m there to give my kids a taste of freedom, within reasonable limits, of course. I want them to explore and experience life as children should.
When other moms glare at me or, worse, pick up my child to place them somewhere they can’t reach on their own, it ruins everything.
A Request to Hovering Moms
Hovering moms, perhaps you could take a break from spotting your child and join us on the bench. It’s lovely in the shade, and you might find a friendly group to chat with. Your child could make friends, run around, and get a little messy—it might just be the highlight of their day!
In the meantime, please keep your hovering tendencies to yourself.
Further Reading
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In summary, the balance of parenting styles at parks can be challenging. While some parents choose to engage directly with their children, others prefer to let them explore independently. Both styles have their merits, but it’s essential to respect each other’s approach to parenting.