Helicopter Parenting

You might remember that just before Christmas I was given a mini remote controlled helicopter from Horizon Hobby to review. This made me one Lucky Duck because it just so happened that a remote controlled plane was what David, age 10, had been wanting. I was so excited to give it to him--it wasn't something that we would have normally pitched in for and I was slightly nervous about whether he'd be able to fly it. Handing a delicate $160 toy to a child is always a bit of a gamble you know?

I figured it would be a good thing for him to be able to have some trust given him along with a healthy dose of responsibility because kids need to have opportunities to shine. If it broke, it broke. Lesson learned, right?

Well Christmas morning came and you can imagine how thrilled he was. He pulled it out of the box while we explained how to fly it and had him go through all the requisite flight simulation training and he did quite well. In fact it wasn't too long before he had the little guy zooming around the room, landing on people's outstretched hands or hovering in mid air next to me as I sat typing (he thought it was funny to fan me with the blades).

I was impressed because it seemed like the experiment was a success and the whole thing had been good for him but I'd forgotten my other son. The toy was a magnet and Spencer was dying to try it and was constantly asking for a turn. We kept explaining that just because he was older didn't mean that he could automatically fly it as well as David, that he needed to learn how and practice and be careful just as David had if he wanted to fly it without damaging it.

With enough pestering David finally handed it over to let Spencer take a turn and almost immediately on his third or fourth try he overshot things and smashed the helicopter against the wall. It dropped like a rock and lay on the floor, the little fly bar above the blades broken in two, quivering in pain.

When they brought it to me it was immediately apparent that this wasn't something that a spot of glue or a touch of duct tape could fix, the bar was snapped and without the bar the radio signals wouldn't get through. The only option was to put it out of its misery.

Of course David was angry that his toy was broken. Spencer was very sorry--VERY sorry--but it was really too late, he hadn't paid attention to the warnings and was now experiencing the consequences of his cockiness. This all brought me to a horrible decision: how to deal with the perpetrator?

It's always been our philosophy that if you break something you are responsible for fixing it. Just because it's an accident doesn't mean the responsibility for making things right disappears. Feeling sorry is a start but that's only half way to making it better. Luckily--or unluckily depending on how you look at it--my kids have been on the other end of the experience where someone's broken something of theirs without replacing it so at least Spencer could relate to how it feels to be the victim.

I had told him before he started that if he broke the helicopter it would be his responsibility to have it fixed so he knew what consequences he was now facing. As it happens he'd been saving up for a new bike. He had scrimped and horded his pennies for a year and had saved $100--and given that he doesn't have an allowance or any significant source of income you can imagine how hard it was to get that much together.

Now, as we all looked at the broken helicopter on the counter we realized that it was probably going to take more than his entire savings to make this moment's mistake right again and I was aching for him. I knew what I had to say but it killed me to do it.

"Spencer--you realize that this means you're going to have to do whatever it takes to fix David's helicopter don't you?"

"Yes."

"It'll probably take all of your bike money to get it fixed or to buy him a new one if it can't be fixed--and this looks pretty bad."

"I know."

I knew he was sorry but regardless of how many tears were shed if he was truly sorry, if he really wanted to make things right he'd do everything he could to make recompense even if it meant sacrificing what he'd saved. I couldn't help but think that as painful as it was to enforce the penalty, if he learned a lesson now it would be the cheapest way to learn it--can you imagine this same situation when he's 16? With a car? He's just lucky this is a scenario that can be fixed with money--many problems can't.

So I put things off for a few days until I had some errands to run then we all piled in the car with the broken body of our little helicopter in a box and made the sad procession to the hobby store to see if there was any hope.

When I walked in the door and up to the counter the clerk was busy helping a man and they were both bent over something and as I approached I could see that it was the exact model and brand of mini remote helicopter that I held. A man came up behind me in line and he had a box with another identical helicopter. On the shelf behind the counter was another and next to the cash register sat another, charging.

Apparently I'd come to the right place.

I showed the clerk the box with the mangled body of the chopper and asked him if there was anything he could do for us.

"Looks like you've broken the fly bar."

"Oh," was all I had the ability to say. Because I'm not exactly an expert on fly bars.

"I think we have a few of these--" and he checked the model, pulled up a cardboard box from underneath the counter and began flipping through the plastic bags lined up in the box.

"Here you go," he said, "Do you want me to install it or do you want to put it on yourself?"

At this point I had to stop the man and ask him if he was in any way kidding me--was he really telling me that the part in question could easily be replaced? Just like that?

He looked at me kind of funny and said, "Oh these things break every so often. Sometimes you might break a blade too but other than that these little guys are virtually indestructible."

"Wow. Why don't you put it on for me then?"

At which point he whipped out his mini screwdriver and quickly switched the broken bar for the new one. I took a deep breath and asked with a wince, "So how much is this going to cost?"

He looked at the package and said, "Uh . . . let's see . . . six dollars."

He hadn't even charged me for installation.

So when I walked out to the car with a perfectly restored mini helicopter I was suddenly torn. Spencer had been saved from certain death. Snatched from the jaws of doom just like that and while I was thrilled that his bike money was left in tact and happy for his happiness I wondered if such a reprieve would effectively drive the lesson home?

But when I got in the car, handed the helicopter to David and told the Spencer he'd only lost six dollars Spencer sat there with his mouth hanging open and near-tears of gratitude in his twelve-year old eyes. I decided that maybe it had been the perfect ending to the story.

Let's hope he's learned his lesson.

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