Growing up in the olden days...

Just finished "Free Range Kids" and loved it.
http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/

I'll recommend it to my daughter who has a 7 year old son and 2 year old daughter. I don't think she's overly protective of my grandchildren, but there's some good (and funny) stuff in there.

I was born in 1941, and reading how 'it used to be' brought back many memories of my childhood.
Here's one you might like:

I grew up in a suburb on the south side of Birmingham, Alabama.
My first bike was a red Western Flyer that I got for my ninth Christmas.
I learned to ride it, through unassisted solo trial and error, in the back yard. At least the grass was fairly soft for my wipeouts.
By the way, 'wipeout' was a term unknown to us back then. We either just fell down or crashed.
No one had heard of 'training wheels' or A HELMET?
For just riding a bike?
Jeez.

Eventually my proficiency improved. I could even expertly navigate the tight figure '8' pattern between my swings and the Chinaberry tree.
I perfected my 'running start single-pedal mount' and the equally impressive 'single pedal coasting dismount'.
Cool.
So...I was allowed to ride on the sidewalk up and down our street.
"DON'T GO IN THE STREET!"
And then, after much whining and pleading on my part ("I'm NOT a baby!") I was allowed to ride all the way around the block.
Alone.
"But STAY on our block AND DON'T GO IN THE STREET!"
Free at last!

On my second or third circumnavigation of our block it occurred to me (as it would to any normal, devious, sneaky kid) "Who's watching?"
Besides, it was becoming boring just riding around and around the same block.
So on the back side of the block I ventured across the street and rode around that block.
New frontiers!
It wasn't like anyone was standing on my front walk with a stopwatch to time my regular appearances.
I was a scamp and a scoundrel and incredibly free and close to delirious with the feeling.
I had perhaps for the first time knowingly flouted authority and lived to (not) tell about it.
Way cool.

At some point I got the OK to pretty much roam the neighborhood at will with three or four of my 'biker' buddies.
"BUT STAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD!"
Yeah, right.

On Saturdays we'd pack a lunch and head out.
Downtown! (Don't tell Mom!)
By then we were expert riders and there wasn't quite as much traffic in town as I'm sure there is now.
One stop was usually the Merita Bread bakery. It was huge. Two blocks away we could pick up the odor of freshly baked bread.
AND Merita Bread was one of the sponsors of The Lone Ranger radio program. You could get an ENTIRE loaf of day old bread for a dime.
Just FYI, an eleven year old boy can eat a whole loaf of bread and still eat the lunch he packed for the day's excursion.
And tuck into supper at home that night.
Bottomless pits.

A couple of times we stopped at the L&N railroad yard right next to downtown and hitched rides back and forth on the slow moving yard switch engines for an hour or more. Sometimes the engineer would invite us up into the cab.
Oh, MAN!

OK, I admit that was kind of dangerous. But we were nimble and athletic and I don't remember even a skinned knee. Many years later I told Mom about it and she said she was just glad she didn't know about it then.

I guess my point is that kids will take chances, calculated (or uncalculated) risks, if you will, whether 'allowed to' or not. It's just their nature.
Better to do what you did in The Great Solo Subway Adventure and give them a chance to succeed.

My 7 year old grandson will precariously balance, standing upright, on the back of the couch 'just to see'.
Who knows, maybe he'll grow up to be a great surfer.

When you're under 4 feet tall, it's amazing how different your world looks with just another 24 inches of height. I don't give him the tired old 'Furniture is for SITTING ON, NOT STANDING ON!' lecture. He's not hurting the furniture and about the worst that can happen is that he'll lose his balance and fall onto the big soft couch.
Besides, he'll get bored standing there in a couple of minutes and get down anyway.
:-)

are the same. By that time, bread was up to a quarter a loaf and I remember my mother giving me two dollars to buy her cigarettes at the corner store and I got to keep the change for penny candy or an ice cream cone. That running start single peddle mount was the height of mastering the art of independence. You couldn't tell me nothing! LOL! Thanks for the trip down memory lane. Those were the days.

And it was still like that.

(Okay, not the prices, but the freedom)

In the summertime the neighborhood would be full of kids playing outside until it got dark and we were called in or the curfew whistle blew. I can remember spending a lot of time looking for houses being torn down so we could get some boards for a fort or try and make a go-cart. Finding a big appliance box so we could roll down the hill in it. Walking the fence like it was a tightrope. Taking an hour to walk the 6 blocks home from school because I had to play marbles the whole way or in the winter would have to walk through every snowbank.

Yeah, I would take being a kid back then compared to today.