Walk at your toddler’s pace, they said. Notice what they notice, they said. You’ll gain a new appreciation of beauty and life and learn how to slow down and enjoy the world in an entirely new way, they said.
Walking along, behind, and in front of a 2-year-old is akin to going to the dentist. You dread it, it’s mostly unpleasant during the procedure, and maybe after you’re done you feel like it was a good healthy choice, but you never look back at it with wonder or gratitude. It just is what it is: a time-consuming exercise, a battle of wills of you arguing internally between “just-pick-the-damn-kid-up” and “she-really-seems-content-I-can-fake-a-smile-a-little-longer”.
In reality, I DO let L walk. Quite often. The bugger has great stamina and can keep up with myself and the six-year-old pretty well. I love fostering her independence this way and I know it is fun for her.
But I don’t see how on Earth it’s supposed to inspire or help ME at all.