I had
to laugh; it could have been our little family.

The Mother Duck, lagging at the rear, was all in a tizz. Whether she was cranky at being left behind, or like her human mummy counterparts, was irritable because no one looked to be listening she appeared to have no choice but to turn the volume up on her nagging. Spotting me, her squawking spiralled up about 4 notches and she began to alert her little clan in front. However, on marched the Daddy Duck either blissfully ignorant of any human presence nearby or choosing to believe there was indeed no danger lurking. His 3 little followers traipsed merrily – blindly – behind him, also enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun.Onwards they shuffled, sharing a conversational squawk or two as they meandered on.

Mother Duck however, was almost apoplectic by this point. The nearer I got to her beautiful brood the more fever pitch her pleas reached. Yet Daddy duck did not look back, he just waddled on. Clearly, he knew when to worry, when to save his energy.

A trait that is mirrored by this Mummy, and my children’s Daddy.

You see, earlier that day, as we enjoyed a family outing in the sun, I spent the entire time on tenderhooks, unconsciously fearing the worst as my son scootered ahead. Constantly screeching at him to beware, to slow down, to STOP, my heart raced, imagining every possible worst outcome likely. Yet The Husband, strolling happily alongside, pushing our daughter in the pram, kept calmly assuring me “he’ll be right”, “he is ok”.

And of course, he was. His Daddy was right, while I was not only wrong, but wrung out after all those unnecessary emotions were expended. So, it’s time to be less of an anxious Mummy Duck and more live-in-the-moment Daddy Duck. Otherwise the real cost I’ll pay (not the perceived one I fear) is missing out on the precious, present moment watching my boy’s face light up while he had so.much.FUN!