Kid or Dog: You Decide

You ever see a kid on a leash in public and immediately think, “What in the world…?”

Yeah, me too.

Well—past tense—me too. Because let me tell you something: if you ever see a parent with a child on a leash, do not question it, do not pass judgment, and for the love of juice boxes everywhere, do not give them the look. You have no idea what that parent is going through. Especially in today’s world, where kids seem to be one “blink too long” away from disappearing, and your anxiety is already running at Olympic levels before you even leave the house.

I used to be that parent. The one silently swearing I’d never, ever use a leash on my kids. “I’ll teach them to stay close,” I told myself smugly with my first two children. And honestly, I got lucky—those two never had the “must run free” gene. They were stroller kids. Chill. Predictable. Contained.

And then… I met my match. My son.

This boy came into the world with a mission: to be everywhere he wasn’t supposed to be. He didn’t just walk—he bolted. Strollers? Forget it. He’d scream, kick, and arch his back like he was auditioning for a Cirque du Soleil act. By the time he was 20 months old, I caved. I bought the leash. And not just any leash—this was a toddler harness. (Because calling it a harness somehow makes you feel better about the whole thing.)

That kid walked for three straight hours at the county fair, powered purely by funnel cake fumes and toddler adrenaline, and still had energy to spare when we got home. I got stares. I got side-eye. I even overheard a lady whisper, “Like a dog…” And you know what? Yes, Karen. Exactly like a dog. But this “dog” didn’t end up lost in a crowd, and I didn’t have to file a missing person’s report in the middle of the Ferris wheel line.

Because here’s the thing: it wasn’t about freedom. It was about safety. He could move, explore, and live his best life—without me aging 20 years in a single afternoon.

Then my fourth came along. My daughter. The wild card. My son was spirited, sure, but she? She is a tiny, glitter-covered hurricane in sneakers. Independent, determined, and allergic to the idea of sitting still. She, too, saw the stroller as a medieval torture device. And honestly, I can’t even blame her. Sitting there, strapped in, watching other people live their best life while you’re stuck like luggage? I wouldn’t want that either.

So, yes, both of my “younger set” have been leash kids. And I regret nothing. Theme parks, fairs, festivals, even the grocery store—my anxiety levels are lower, my kids are happy, and no one’s getting lost in the produce aisle. People are going to judge. They’ll make comments. They’ll roll their eyes.

And to that I say: fine. Come try chasing a sugar-high toddler who can out-sprint you in flip-flops and then tell me you don’t start Googling “cute toddler harnesses” by the end of the day.

Bottom line? You do what works for you and your family. Because at the end of the day, you’re the one keeping these tiny humans alive—and that’s the real victory.