In thinking about what I'd write this month, I decided "summer fun" would be a good idea. But a recent conversation with my daughter (and a personal "A-ha" moment) changed my mind.

We were talking about her early childhood and some of the "baggage" she'd carried from that time that she's now been able to unpack and put away for good.

One of her long-held issues was that I'd never allowed her to go to summer camp. Many of her friends had gone, and every summer they came back with glowing stories of how much fun they'd had. For years, she really felt upset that she hadn't been able to go, too.
That conversation started me thinking about "why" I'd dismissed her pleas every time she'd asked. That was my "a-ha" moment.

You see, I'd gone to camp as a little girl, only 6 ½, and it had been a traumatic, very not good experience. It began by waking the first morning there to a very large mouse (I don't know - maybe it was a rat - but it was really big) chewing on the screen window not a foot from my head. And it went downhill from there.

Then, in my early teens, I decided to give it another chance...baaad idea! That weeklong episode in my life, which included being shot in the eyes with a squirt gun full of Absorbine Jr., cemented my negative opinion: Summer camp was not the joyous time of frivolous abandon the brochures extolled - unless you were the kid on the other end of the squirt gun. No...no...no...never again!

And so it was that, armed with my own understanding of summer camp, I had automatically just said "no" when my daughter (every year) asked if she could go. I didn't think twice. I really didn't have to, did I?

Well, that whole train of thought led me to look back into my children's early years. As I did, I realized how many opportunities I'd denied them because of my own bad childhood experiences. It never occurred to me to open my mind to the possibility that my kids would enjoy something I had abhorred. It wasn't as simple as me being over-protective; I'd rarely exhibited that trait. No, it was more a case of projecting my negative perspectives onto them, believing they couldn't possibly enjoy the things I hadn't enjoyed.

It's remarkable, when you look back, to realize how strongly your own experiences growing up can color the way you react to your child's simple requests.

Last week, I saw a television interview with a mother of four young children. She and her husband are "unschooling" the kids on their large property in the Northwest. The family doesn't follow a curriculum. Instead, they're educating their children through real-life experiences; investigation of the natural world and learning about the things that inspire each child's curiosity. In the process, the kids are really learning...about math and science and history and language (to name just a few) and how they fit in the world. This doesn't mean they'll never have any formal education. Their parents simply feel that now, when they're very young, isn't that time for them.

But I digress. What I wanted to tell you is that I was fascinated by the mom's answer to one of the interviewer's questions: "Don't you think about what you want your children to do for careers when they're adults?" Her answer went something like this: "Do you worry about that for your children? I certainly don't. How could I? I believe they'll find what they love and do it. I wouldn't presume to know what they'll find."

I've taken some time to mull over that interview, combined with the conversation with my daughter. I've thought about how I allowed my experiences, both good and bad, to dominate my parenting. I came to this conclusion: Just saying "No" isn't always a good thing. How wonderful it is for children to be given the chance to explore for themselves the possibilities that intrigue them and stir their intellectual curiosity.

No matter how much personal baggage parents carry, the kids don't need to share that load. They need to pack their own bags - without interference - and that's a good thing. Given that kind of freedom, I'll bet they'll have suitcases bulging with happy memories.