As a person who has always prided themselves on punctuality, I’ve held a steadfast belief that being on time is a sign of respect. I can be counted on to arrive early for meetings and social events. My late grandmother used to say, “Arriving five minutes early means you’re on time.” However, the arrival of my son, Leo, who was notably tardy even before birth, changed my perception of time.
From an early age, Leo exhibited a natural inclination to take his time. Whether he was gathering stones from the sidewalk, marveling at puddles, or constructing elaborate block towers instead of eating breakfast, his leisurely pace often clashed with my need for efficiency. This behavior was compounded by developmental delays that required therapy sessions for speech, occupational, and physical skills, leading me to meticulously plan our schedules around his needs.
Despite my efforts to streamline our mornings—laying out his clothes, preparing snacks, and setting timers—Leo’s tendency to dawdle persisted. After years of coaxing and occasional frustration, I assumed that he would eventually embrace my understanding of time. Unfortunately, this was not the case. By the end of third grade, it became evident that his slower processing speed presented challenges, impacting his academic performance. Teachers discovered that Leo’s brain simply operates at a different pace than that of his peers.
Faced with this revelation, I recognized the need for a shift in my parenting style. However, the thought of allowing Leo the freedom to navigate his own schedule—at the risk of being late—was unsettling. I held tightly to the belief that he needed to learn how to manage his time wisely. As Leo entered fourth grade, my morning reminders morphed into demands, and my frustration grew. The mornings devolved into a chaotic battle of wills, leaving both of us drained before the day even began.
When I returned to work, my responsibilities increased dramatically. With less mental bandwidth to manage Leo’s timing, I had to confront the reality that he was growing up and needed to take ownership of his actions. This led me to a pivotal decision: I would allow him to be late for school.
One morning, I announced, “We will leave at 7:45. You have until then to wake up and get ready.” As the clock neared my deadline, Leo remained in bed. I informed him that his brother and I would be leaving shortly and that he could lock the door behind us. Surprisingly, he eventually made his way to school on his own. I was astonished to see him walking down the sidewalk, smiling and ready, for the first time in weeks.
That day marked a turning point. Our mornings, though slower, became far more peaceful. Leo learned to arrive at school on his own terms, without my constant reminders. His teacher, who has been supportive and accommodating of his unique needs, reports that his school days are now both positive and productive. As a parent, I am learning to nurture Leo’s individuality, embracing the notion that patience is essential.
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In summary, allowing my son to manage his own time has led to a more harmonious home environment. By stepping back and letting him navigate his mornings, I’ve discovered that he is capable of meeting his own needs, which fosters both independence and confidence.