As a medical professional, punctuality is ingrained in my daily routine; I pride myself on being early to appointments and meetings. My grandmother always said, “Being five minutes early is the same as being on time.” However, having my son Leo challenged my punctual ways. He arrived a week past his due date and has since taken his time with everything—whether it’s collecting leaves during our walks or constructing elaborate towers when he should be having breakfast. His leisurely pace tested my commitment to timeliness.
Leo’s slow approach to life stems from his developmental challenges. As a toddler, he went through various therapies for speech, motor skills, and more. To support him, I meticulously organized our days around his needs. I prepped his clothes, packed his snacks, and set timers to help him stay on track. Despite my efforts, “Hurry up!” became a common phrase in our house, often turning our mornings into a chaotic rush.
As he transitioned into fourth grade, I hoped he would naturally adopt my sense of time. Yet, that wasn’t the case. Instead, I found myself resorting to threats and yelling, creating a battleground that left us both exhausted before the day even started.
When I returned to work, my responsibilities multiplied, pushing me to reevaluate my approach. I had to accept that Leo was growing older and needed to take responsibility for his own actions—especially considering his unique needs. I decided to try a different tactic: letting him be late to school.
One morning, I told Leo, “We’re leaving at 7:45. You have until then to get ready.” At 7:40, he was still in bed. I announced that my other son and I would be leaving in five minutes, and I encouraged him to lock the door behind us. As we walked to school, I glanced back, hoping to see him, but he was nowhere in sight. I continued on, dropping off my other child and heading toward the school gate. Just as I was about to turn around, there was Leo, strolling up the sidewalk, smiling and ready for the day.
For the first time in weeks, the morning felt serene. We exchanged an affectionate moment as he nuzzled against me. “I love you, Mom,” he said, and I responded, “I love you too, sweetheart. Enjoy your day.” Miraculously, we all made it on time.
Now, a few months later, mornings are calmer, and Leo has learned to manage his time better without my constant oversight. His teacher reports that he is thriving in a supportive environment. I’m learning to embrace his natural pace, recognizing that these changes take time—just like parenting.
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In summary, embracing my son’s unique rhythm has transformed our mornings, allowing both of us to find a balance between structure and flexibility.