Failing to Fly, But Free Falling: Jumping as a Form of Childhood Release

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Pamela Weintraub

Abstract

Throughout my childhood, I was usually the responsible one. Indeed, I was THAT kid — the child who thought about what would happen if we got caught playing Ding Dong Ditch, pointed out how terrible it would be if we got lost in the local nature preserve after night had fallen, explained why we should not go to that keg party at the beach, and so on. Part of this was a serious fear of getting in trouble, but another aspect was the fact that I was never allowed to go anywhere or do anything by my extremely overprotective mother, so if I managed to discourage my peers from going to places I wasn’t permitted (out in the neighborhood alone, the preserve, the beach, the mall, what have you), I would be preventing my own inevitable exclusion from such fun. However, despite my mother’s best attempts to keep me safe from the world (I could write an entire paper on that alone), I still found ways to push the boundaries of dangerous play — my jumping games.

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