The Backpack Leash

Some parenting choices don’t come from parenting books — they come from deep love, lived experience, and the need to keep your child safe. This was one of those choices.

From My Home to Yours: The Backpack Leash

There was a time — and honestly, to some extent it's still true — when we could not take our eyes off our son in public. Not even for a second. His impulsivity was so intense that a momentary distraction could turn into a full-on sprint across a parking lot or deep into a crowded event.

If we let go of his hand near traffic, he would bolt. If we were at a park, a local festival, or even a supermarket, he’d take off at full speed with no sense of danger. It wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t rebellion. It was his brain — curious, fast-moving, and without the internal brakes to pause or check in. Every outing came with a heightened sense of vigilance and fear. We were constantly scanning, chasing, redirecting, and holding our breath.

Eventually, we made a choice that some parents might hesitate to talk about — we bought a backpack leash.

It wasn’t something we did lightly or without emotion. It felt like admitting something we didn’t want to say out loud — that typical parenting strategies weren’t enough to keep our son safe in the world. But the truth was, no amount of hand-holding, reminders, or “wait for us” talks worked. His body moved faster than his reasoning could catch up.

The first time we used it was for a day trip at the pumpkin patch, we got looks — those sharp, judgmental stares from people who assumed we were controlling, overprotective, or treating our child like a pet. But what they didn’t see was the why behind it. They didn’t see the panic in our eyes every time he slipped from our grasp. They didn’t feel the heartbreak of shouting his name across a busy parking lot, praying he would stop.

It wasn’t about control. It was about survival — about keeping our son safe in a world that moved too fast for his developing brain.

And you know what? It helped. He stayed close. We could breathe. And he loved the backpack — the independence, the fun of picking which one to wear, the feeling of freedom within boundaries. It gave him space, and it gave us peace.

We didn’t use it forever. Just long enough to get through a stage that demanded more than words or warnings. Long enough for his body and brain to start working more in sync.

🔍 What I Learned

Keeping your child safe will sometimes mean doing things others don’t understand — and that’s okay. What matters isn’t how parenting looks from the outside, but how supported and secure your child feels on the inside.

💡Why This Stuck With Me

Because I learned that parenting a neurodivergent child takes courage — not just to handle the challenges, but to tune out the world’s judgment and do what’s right for your child.