As I perched quietly on a plastic chair, I watched my son engage in his first speech therapy session. His therapist, affectionately known as The Sound Sage, sat across from him, a round table separating them. The session aimed to help him correct his lateral lisp.
From her cabinet, she produced a card resembling a bingo board, filled with circular indentations showcasing various colored snakes. A pile of colored chips sat beside it. My curiosity piqued as I observed the interaction unfold.
“Can you say ‘ta’ for me? Like this: ‘Ta, ta,’” she instructed.
“Ta, ta,” my little guy echoed, trying his best.
The game proceeded with him earning chips for producing the correct sounds, which he could place on the board as a reward. The goal was straightforward: cover all the blank spaces. Simple enough, right?
Wrong.
The challenge for my son didn’t stem from his ability to pronounce the sounds or focus on the task. Instead, it was the very game that posed a dilemma. Upon receiving his first chip, he hesitated, asking where to place it. The therapist replied he could choose any spot. Confusion clouded his face, and after several exchanges, he finally selected a location.
His tiny fingers meticulously positioned the chip. It wasn’t arbitrary; he matched each chip’s color with the corresponding snake. If he didn’t find a matching snake, he’d ask for guidance again. It dawned on me that my son has a strong need for order—something I had occasionally noticed but brushed off.
In that moment, within the walls of that therapy room, I recognized that my child craves structure even in a game meant to be carefree.
Weeks later, as our family returned from a vacation, we stopped at a gas station. A row of ceramic bells caught my son’s eye. Soon, the delightful sound of tinkling bells filled the air. When I informed him it was time to leave, he protested, determined to finish grouping the blue bells in a row instead of just ringing them for fun.
Reflecting on this behavior, I realized I, too, have a profound need for order and organization. When plans go awry, it can send me into a tailspin. Watching my son mirror my tendencies raises questions: Have my habits influenced him? Could such traits be inherited? Did he come into this world with a craving for structure, or have I created an environment that fosters it?
From his birth, our family routine has been strictly structured. We rise early, with our mornings and evenings meticulously planned. Since starting full-time daycare, his days are filled with scheduled meals, naps, and activities. This adherence to structure has inadvertently exposed him to the monotony of adult life, where every moment is accounted for.
Would he be different if I had chosen to be a stay-at-home mom? That’s a mystery I’ll never solve. Yet, I do know it’s essential to carve out time for spontaneity amidst our daily grind. My son has unwittingly taught me the value of stepping away from our rigid routine.
As a mother, it’s crucial to allow both my child and myself those moments of freedom. Perhaps we can indulge in ice cream before dinner or take a spontaneous car ride to admire Christmas lights. Though my son has not yet developed my level of obsession with order, there’s still time for me to instill in him a love for spontaneity and the beauty of delightful chaos.
One thing is for certain: I’ll never leave another vacation day unused. We need that break, and it’s worth so much more than just a day off. Thanks to my son and The Sound Sage, I’ve learned the importance of embracing spontaneity in our lives.
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In summary, the journey of parenting is filled with lessons, and embracing spontaneity can lead to enriching experiences for both parents and children.