Safety Seems to Be the New Religion of the Millennium

When my first child was born, I did everything by the book. The sterilizing of bottles, the baby-proofing of the home, the cautious background checks on sitters. With the birth of my second child came the relaxing of fear and an easing up on all of the rules. And boy--talk about raising the eyelids in my neighborhood.

American parents are becoming obsessed with safety. The laws, the liability waivers, the inundation with “stranger danger” education. But how much is too much?

These are actual quotes from my fellow parenting peers:

“Oh, Brian, don’t go into those bushes. There might be spiders in there!”

“Yeah, we haven’t seen a movie since Jimmy was born. We’re not comfortable leaving him with a stranger.”

“Um, ma’am, your daughter’s about to go down that big slide by herself. Don’t you want to make sure she doesn’t fall?”

My children are the most precious things in my life. But living in a tower of fear, constantly battening down the hatches and expecting the worst when we play, go out in public or meet a stranger has become an exhausting way to live. And sadly, most parents have bought into the notion that if we just protect, prevent and control our children’s activities and social contacts, they’ll live to be 100.

But are we really in control? And is the fear justifiable?

Not exactly. The U.S. Department of Justice estimates that 354,600 children are kidnapped by a family member in the United States each year, and up to 5,000 are abducted by people who have at least some acquaintance with the child. Contrary to popular belief, random abductions of children by strangers--as terrifying as they are--are estimated at 200 in the U.S. each year. Still, the hysteria is rampant.

Part of the problem is laws that scare parents into believing the sky is falling. The bicycle helmet law is one example. Of course, wearing a helmet is always a good idea, but making it a law implies that every trip on a bike, including just cruising around the cul-de-sacs, is some doomed dance with fate.

I also don’t care for the government imposing rules that can result in fines when parents make decisions to ease up on precautions. Last year, while sitting in a parked car at John Wayne Airport, I was ticketed for not having my son in his car seat. “Your child’s welfare should always be a priority,” the officer scolded me.

The amount of the fine? A staggering $300.

I got another wake-up call as to how bad the safety worshiping has become when I tried to arrange a carpool for our child’s private school. I approached a fellow mom in my neighborhood about ride sharing, figuring it would be a win-win for everyone. Her response: “Um, no. I won’t carpool with you. It’s your car. It’s too small. It’s not safe.”

My car is a 1990 Toyota Corolla, four-door, with seat belts for three in the rear. Sure, it’s no mini-van. But when transporting small children, under the age of 5, as opposed to a high school football team, there’s ample sitting room for all.

Implying that because it’s not a Volvo (which is what my neighbor drives), children aren’t safe is not only insulting; it’s simply not true.

The passion over safety for children has also created a new Big-Brother-meets-the-citizen’s-arrest extremist lying in wait and monitoring parents at every turn. A colleague told me about being accosted at the post office. He had left his child in the car for a quick trip inside, probably to check a P.O. box or grab stamps out of the machine. A woman followed him out to his car and began lecturing him about the dangers of leaving a child in a car.

A girlfriend recalls someone calling the police on her when she left her young son in her apartment to go all the way down to the laundry room to retrieve clothes from the dryer. Oh my goodness.

Is this kind of hair-splitting, tattletaling on behalf of children’s safety really necessary? Why not offer a young mother an afternoon of free baby-sitting to let her do the laundry, if we’re so concerned for the child?

It’s healthy to take reasonable precautions when it comes to the people we love. But we’ve gone way overboard with what that means. The sad result is a generation of children being raised to suspect everyone, and with the idea that the world is a completely evil place.

There is one safety routine in our home that I believe is infinitely more powerful than any car seat, bike helmet or FBI-approved caregiver. Every night at bedtime, I make a sign of the cross on my children’s foreheads and say the following prayer: “Guardian angel, bless my child. Protect them and keep them safe.”

So far, everybody’s still breathing.