As the child grows, so their world expands. From the confines of a mother's embrace, the passage of time sees them begin to crawl, and walk, and finally achieve total freedom of movement. They learn to speak, and thus to communicate, they learn to think, and thus form opinions, they learn to do things and thus to create. As the child grows, the boundaries expand, but then, so do the perceived dangers to their well-being.

A 'good' mother begins to set boundaries almost from the moment of birth. Safety, security and the welfare of her child become paramount. From child-proofing the home, to lessons about stranger-danger, to restrictions in access to technology, to vetting of friendships, to curfews and the dangers of substance abuse... A good mother believes that boundaries create 'safe spaces' and the ability to better control their child's environment. Freedom is doled out only when deemed appropriate, and boundaries widen only when age-approved and even then, accompanied by any amount of fears.

Boundaries have not existed in my home. From babyhood to teenage years, my children have been free to explore their expanding environment without 'safety measures'. Again, access to knowledge (conversations) and the resulting mental power it provided enabled them to make their own decisions as to when they were ready to try something new, or to expand their territory. Some stitches to the head. Two broken arms. One broken toe. One miss-adventurous slip on play equipment resulting in substantial pain 'down there'... A few grazed elbows and knees. That's about it, after eighteen years of boundless activity.

I remember the first time they asked me to walk down to the shops on their own. They were about 8 and 9 at the time. The shops were a few hundred metres away and there were lights to cross the busy main road off our street. By this stage they were going to and from school on their bikes, but that crossing was manned by a 'lollypop lady'. This was a Saturday and peak visitor time, meaning lots of hurried, impatient tourists, still 'city' driving.

"Sure," I'd said, handing over some money.

They returned almost two hours later, having walked the whole strip. In the meantime, I'd received a frantic message on Facebook: "Saw the boys, where are you? Do you know they are out on their own?"

"Yeah," I'd replied.

"You let them???"

"Why not?"

"You heard there was a man hanging around the school!"

This mum was very active on Social media, a one-person 'Neighbourhood Watch' team. Nothing escaped her. Yes there'd been a man, I was on School Council and aware of his being seen several times wandering along the pavement adjacent to the high chain-link fence surrounding the school.

"And?" (I used my anti-bullying word here, because I had sensed what was coming.)

"And you're being irresponsible!!! They're too young to be running around on the loose!!!"

Now I could have continued with the magical 'and' word till she'd run out of accusations. But I knew this woman well. She'd make our private 'conversations' public in a heartbeat, if it meant her proving a point. I'd be 'exposed' for the uncaring and reckless person I was - her loyal group of like-minded mothers leaping to her defence and-

"Karen. I appreciate your concern. I am however offended by your use of the words "irresponsible" and "loose". Unsubstantiated claims like these serve no purpose other than to shed light on your own insecurities. We do not need or desire these insecurities. Kindly keep them to yourself."

There was a long, long pause. Then I got this:

"YOU'LL REGRET IT ONE DAY." The use of capital letters meant to convey something, but to this day, I have not figured out what. (I had kept a screen-shot of this, as I did of every 'interesting' observation regarding my parenting style.)

Of course she couldn't resist making a status reminding all parents to be on the look-out for this 'lurking stranger'. She did not mention me however. The hundred or so comments following had been both an amusing and an alarming read. I say alarming, because in the end, you were left feeling as though your children were about to be snatched from inside your home, while you were there! Mass panic and hysteria ensued; the 'stranger' vilified and pronounced guilty of an assortment of 'supposed' crimes, as every concerned parent added their opinion. "He comes anywhere near my child, he's dead!"

Turned out 'the stranger' was a dad of one of the students, the mum having breached Court orders and 'abducted' the child several years earlier. He'd tracked them down, and on the Monday he fronted to the Principal accompanied by the police... where the story unfolded.

I thought of all those children, forced in the meantime to listen to 'stranger-danger' threats, their minds filled with so many possibilities of 'bad things' happening to them, their imagination in turn amplifying these threats...

Knowing first-hand too, that this danger more than likely existed within some of these homes didn't help. Knowing abuse is too often much closer than one supposes...

The world 'out there' is beautiful, filled with endless possibilities. Why do we then feel we must turn it into this 'dangerous' place, filled with any amount of threats? Why do we not exult in their exploration of this wonderful world, instead of instilling fear and trepidation - terror lurking around every new corner they encounter?

We love our children, sure, and we are responsible for their safety. We are however limiting their growth and stunting their adventurous spirit, by keeping them ever encased in these 'safe spaces', often far longer than absolutely necessary.

Statistically, they are more likely to be injured - or worse - while we are driving them somewhere in our car, than if they are walking down the street. Even if we are safe and responsible drivers ourselves, there are infinite possibilities of other drivers being distracted, or driving under the influence...

Accidents can happen even in the most 'child-proofed' home. And even if they don't, this over-cautiousness creates an environment of constant interruption to their growth. "Be careful!" "Don't run around like that!" "Watch out!" "You'll hurt yourself!" Warnings and threats dissuading inner bravery and robbing them of the satisfaction of overcoming fears.

Sure, hide the medicines and the chemicals; keep children safe from heat sources and means of real physical harm, like toasters and wall sockets. But use explanatory words, not fearful empty ones. Don't scare them unnecessarily and without providing a reasonable, rational reason!  

Monitor their activities but do so from a distance, allowing them to feel the exhilaration of attempting new things without your constant hovering... in case.

My nephew turned two a couple of weeks ago. We celebrated his birthday at a park. There were two lots of play equipment, one lot for the youngest children, another for the older ones. I had been spending time with him, watching as he climbed the short ladder and plonked his bottom down at the top of the small slide, letting out a yelp each time he launched off.

Then he took my hand and led me to the other play equipment. There was a much taller ladder and a tunnel, as well as two separate slides a straight and a twisty one. He was eyeing it. He really wanted to slide down that longer twisty one!

I stood behind him the first time he climbed the ladder. He struggled a little, the rungs being further apart. He made it though, and grinned at me from the top.

"Tunnel?" I asked him, pointing to the plastic tube.

He crawled in and I rushed around to the other side. His delight at seeing me was- a delight to see! Out of the tunnel, he faced the long and twisty slide from above. I watched his face. He was too high for me to reach so he was either going to go down it, or turn back, and head for the smaller, straight one.

He sat. There was a measure of uncertainty in his eyes. I counted. "One, two-"

"Freeee!" He launched, and again I rushed around to the bottom, ready to catch him. Oh but he was ahead of me, squealing as he ran back to the ladder again - more confident this time - scrambling up, waiting for me to surprise him at the tunnel exit and then mouthing the count-down, before he slid again.

There was another boy around his age who'd made a beeline for the bigger slides as well. His father caught him, just before he began climbing the ladder.

"No! You're going to hurt yourself here. Stop!" The father scooped him up. The boy said "Daddy, try?"

"What did I just say? You need to listen!"

"Try?"

"No. Lets' go back to the other slide."

I watched his eyes as he stared back at us, his father leading him away. There was confusion and disappointment. He'd seen my nephew, they were similar in height. His young mind struggled to understand why the other little boy could do it and he couldn't.

He didn't play on the smaller equipment, wandering off back to the picnic table and into his mother's lap.

My brother joined us as my nephew was learning to 'climb' the short rope ladder, his feet slipping through, "Oh no!" muttered every time. He made it up finally. Grinning again, he set off for the tunnel.

"You're a big boy now!" my brother said, and I heard both pride and surprise in his voice.

"Freeee!" he replied, launching off again...

Had I been irresponsible, allowing him on age-inappropriate equipment? That father had thought so; it was in his glance, as he swept his son up. I wondered why he didn't pause a moment, to see my nephew's delight, his sense of accomplishment...

I was proud of my brother also, for not spoiling those moments by saying "Be careful," or "Hold tight," or any amount of cautionary statements...

We formed a bond that afternoon, my nephew and I.

Yesterday, when my boys came along for a visit, he and Dylan got into a 'sword fight', nephew holding a plastic saw, Dylan a hammer. My nephew was a little timid at first, but then began making bolder advances, moving in closer and swinging the saw. Dylan in turn stood up and chased him around the room, prodding him with the hammer. An eighteen year old and a two year old both on the floor at one point, my nephew triumphantly sitting on his chest, Dylan pretending to try push him off.

His other grandmother wandered into the room and chose that moment to lift him up. "Be careful," she said, "You might hit your head on the TV cabinet!"

Dylan stood and gave me a questioning look: "What? I'm not responsible enough to make sure he doesn't hurt himself?"

I couldn't resist it. Said to her, "Dylan busted his head around this age. He had to get five stitches, and he had a bald patch for a while. He was pretty proud of it. Didn't even cry at the hospital."

He hadn't, fascinated instead by all the goings-on around him.

Oh, the look of horror on her face though! Needless to say, she kept a keen eye on my nephew the rest of the afternoon, the boys resorting to blowing soap bubbles.

"Mum, why does he have to wear shoes and a jacket every time he goes outside? It's a courtyard with artificial grass and some pavers."

"There's possum poo babe. His grandmother said so."

"Yeah but I used to eat it right? Like Marcus ate the cat food? Nothing happened to us!"

Have you ever kissed a child who's played the 'one for you one for me' game with the cat, giving one piece of dry food to the cat and popping another in his mouth? Mmmm... Tuna delights! Possum poo? Not so great an aftertaste.

Point is, like Dylan said, nothing happened to them. Nothing has happened to them, despite their barefoot saunters in the backyard, the sliding face-down in mud, the getting soaked in a sudden thunderstorm - running around to see if you got more wet by running around - in the middle of winter, in shorts and tees.

Nothing happened to them when they rode the train to the city to see a movie at IMAX on their own, never having been to the city before. Or when they entered two metre high surf; getting tossed about and ending up with shorts full of sand and spluttering. Or when they snow-boarded at ski camp, doing the black runs on their third day. Or when we 'bush-bashed', climbing over slimy tree stumps and crashing through undergrowth, sliding on our asses down slippery patches... Or when they hung off a net, the boat ahead twisting and turning, eventually throwing them off and they having to tread water until the rescue boat reached them...

The only real danger to their lives came when we were rear-ended in my car.

They do not fear the world 'out there'. Their daring natures fill me with constant pride. I know whatever challenges life might throw at them, whatever assumed 'dangers' they encounter, they will be well-prepared. They've had a 'lifetime' confronting situations and getting past them...

Sure. They've been offered alcohol and drugs. Their standard response (they always tell me afterwards,) "No thanks, I don't need substances to feel high or happy."

That's an often overlooked consequence of parental over-protecting. Denied the freedom to explore, kids will often resort to artificial 'thrills' to fill the void. Seen it too often, to discount it as mere 'teenage rebellion' - well this rebellion is often tied to breaking boundaries anyway, right?

We underestimate our children's'own survival instincts, their own senseof self-preservation.

I question whether our need to create boundaries and ever 'hover in case' stems more from our own instilled fears or the manufactured fears forced upon us, than from any real threat. This coupled by the need to 'appear responsible' in the eyes of our peers...