Flight of the child

"Mum, I want to fly."

When B said this to me a few days ago, it was like a light had gone on in his head. He truly thought he could and should be able to fly. He had a glint in his eye, he was ready for an adventure. Oh, the innocence of not knowing any better.















I wanted to strap on some wings take him up to the roof and show him how. I felt disappointment in the hard reality of what I said to him. I thought of Leonardo and all those contraptions he invented, I thought of all the boys before him, all wanting the joy and freedom of flight.

I wish I had said something about flying at night in your sleep at dream time. (This is one of my favourite dreams, particularly when you know you are dreaming) I wish I had talked about birds gliding on the wind or even about swimming. With weekly lessons B has learnt this skill, and he could try thinking about flight while swimming underwater. I love swimming underwater, that feeling of weightlessness, surely that is close to the feeling of flying?

Instead though, I told him that he would have to wait till his next plane trip, as that is the only way we humans really fly. I did mention hang-gliding, but that was the story of a someone my parents know who had a terrible accident. His Dad then made the comment that he would never be allowed to hang-glide.

















So all this talk shut down his adventure, closed the door on his dream, wiped out the glint in his eye and taught him to stop imagining. I can see very clearly now that over the course of childhood this happens to all of our imaginations and our creativity. We are forced to loose that childhood wonder, through the harsh reality of "what is". As a parent I have rarely had conversations about "what could be".

I am so sorry B! That is the very last thing I wanted to do.

Leonardo never ever stopped imagining.

Go flying my little boy.
















Images: Flying into Nadi Fiji, Very happy B on Seaplane, One of Leonardo da Vinci's Flying Machines