Later, I will dress them in their snowsuits, open the door and tell them to get the hell outside and to stay out there with no parental supervision until they're shivering and frostbitten.
That's what my Mom used to do, so if it's good enough for me, it's good enough for them.
It amazes me that I actually survived my childhood. I can't imagine letting my kids have the amount of unsupervised outdoor play that I had.
Different times, I know. My mom wasn't afraid of some sex-pervert or priest kidnapping me or getting me hooked on crystal meth, because that sort of paranoia is a more modern phenomenon, but I still can't help but think she was taking unnecessary risks with my well being. Maybe it's because I was her fourth child, and she had been through it all with three other kids already. Or maybe she just didn't love me as much as her other kids. That's probably it.