I found myself observing my son from a plastic chair, a world away in that therapy room. His speech therapist, affectionately dubbed The Sound Specialist, sat across from him, with a round table dividing them. It was his inaugural session to tackle his lateral lisp.
From her cabinet, she retrieved a card resembling a bingo board, dotted with circular indentations housing various colored snakes. Beside it lay a heap of colorful chips. I was intrigued as I watched her begin the session.
“Can you say ‘ta’ for me? Like this: ‘Ta, ta.’”
“Ta, ta,” my little guy echoed, giving it his best shot.
The game was straightforward: after pronouncing the sounds correctly, he would earn a chip to place on the board, aiming to cover all the empty spaces. Simple, right? Wrong.
The challenge for my son wasn’t articulating the sounds or maintaining focus, as I had feared. It wasn’t even ignoring instructions, which he sometimes does with me. No, the hurdle lay in the game structure itself.
The first time he earned a chip, he asked where to put it. “Anywhere you want,” the therapist replied. Confusion clouded his expression. He inquired again, and again she repeated the same answer. Eventually, he chose a spot, but it wasn’t arbitrary. Each chip he placed matched the color of a snake on the board, and if a matching snake wasn’t available, he sought guidance on where to position it. Even his next chip found its home next to the previous one of the same color.
In that moment, it became glaringly clear: my son has a strong need for order. This was not merely a fleeting quirk I had overlooked but a significant aspect of his personality. He craved structure, even during what was meant to be a carefree game.
Fast forward a few weeks, and our family was returning from vacation. We stopped at a gas station, where a row of ceramic bells caught my son’s eye. Moments later, the delightful sound of tinkling bells filled the air. When it was time to leave, he protested, wanting to finish his self-imposed task of arranging the blue bells in a neat line.
Why should I be surprised? I, too, have a penchant for order and structure in my life, often to an obsessive degree. When plans go awry or spontaneity strikes, I find myself feeling flustered.
Seeing my son mirror my behaviors raises concerns. Have my tendencies unknowingly influenced his? Can a need for structure be inherited? Or has my organized environment shaped him?
For the past three years, our mornings have started at 7:30 a.m. on weekdays and every other Saturday. He spends nearly nine hours away from me on workdays, while our evenings follow a predictable routine: dinner, playtime, bath, and bed, usually in that precise order. His daycare further enforces this structure with scheduled activities.
By continuing my career, I’ve inadvertently exposed him to the monotony of adult life, where everything seems to have a time and place.
Would he be different if I had chosen to be a stay-at-home mom? I may never know. But one thing is clear: I need to carve out time for spontaneity amidst the chaos of our schedule. My son has taught me that breaks from routine are essential for both of us.
Perhaps we can indulge in ice cream before dinner one night or embark on an impromptu drive to admire holiday lights. While my son isn’t as obsessive as I am yet, there’s still time for me to cultivate a love for spontaneity and delightful chaos in him. Who knows, I might even learn to embrace it myself. One thing is certain: I’ll never again squander a vacation day. We need those breaks, and they’re worth far more than just hours on the clock.
Thanks to my son and the Sound Specialist for this valuable lesson.
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Summary:
Embracing spontaneity is crucial for both parents and children. The author reflects on how her structured lifestyle has influenced her son’s behavior and highlights the importance of breaking free from routine. By allowing for spontaneous moments, they can foster creativity and joy in their lives.