Life Behind the Curve

My dad is a storyteller. He is also a (often bad) comedian. He loves a fable and its moral, a joke and its punchline. He taught me to appreciate both.

Growing up one of my favorite fables he’d tell me was the story of the tortoise and the hare. I retold a version it to Scoot on our first date. We both remember it well.

To this day, some of my favorite sayings are “Slow and steady wins the race,” “Good things come to those who wait,” and “Patience is a virtue.” They’re all variations on a theme.

So often I forget this about parenting. By pretty much all measures, DJ was an easy kid and a predictable learner. He crawled at four months, walked at nine. He learned to talk by-the-books, one syllable at a time. He hit pretty much all the developmental milestones as he should, slowly and steadily.

Bop is an all-at-once type of guy. He crawled late but walked soon thereafter. His first word was not “mama” or “dada” but “bat-eh-bol” (basketball). At 21 months, when I was growing slightly concerned that he was barely saying any words, I took him to a grocery store. As we walked through he was pointing and saying something. It took me two laps around the store to realize he could read and say every aisle number between one and nine. I was so amazed I took a video of me typing numbers into the computer (out of order) and him shouting them out. I then found out he knew them all in Spanish as well as English. I had no idea where it all came from.

He’ll go through what feels like eternity-long phases when he doesn’t change much. Then suddenly, without warning, he’s mastered a new skill (or ten) or developed a new personality trait seemingly overnight. It’s happened again and again.

Last August, the two weeks we spent doing parent-participation swim lessons with him were some of the most agonizing of my parenting career. Bop insisted on me (not daddy) going with him and then refused to do anything he was asked. He didn’t learn much, I was frustrated and Scoot and I both worried that we wasted our money. I was thrilled when the parks and rec department suggested he move up to the older class this year. No parents allowed.

Monday was his first day. He was woefully unprepared. He wanted to stay with DJ. Then he wanted me to go with him. When neither happened, he just stood there, then later he begrudgingly went to the shallow end with his teacher, always just far enough out of her reach that she couldn’t touch him. She finally coaxed him to join her on a ride to the deeper end and he promptly FREAKED. Despite attempts at gently urging him and flat-out bribing him, he was basically kicked out of class on his first day.

[Let me pause here for a moment to make sure I'm not accused of pushing my kids too hard. Swim lessons are unlike any other sport to me. I couldn't care less about him being good enough at swimming to do it competitively. All I care about is that he's safe in and around water. Babies take swim lessons. Certainly my nearly four year old who likes to go to the pool to play and spends all day being instructed by other adults should be able to as well.]

Between Monday and Tuesday, I’d been coaching him to be prepared to go into the water with his teachers (and not mommy and daddy). I’ll admit it, I even bribed him. (Our bribery song this time went, “B-Bop goes swimming in the pool with Ms. Katie, B-Bop gets candy, B-Bop gets candy.” Yet no matter what promises I made him, he repeatedly said “No!” when asked if he was going to go in the pool at his swimming lessons.

I spent all day yesterday fretting. I rushed home from work and put my own bathing suit on under my clothes, convinced he’d get remediated to the parent-participation class full of 18 month olds.

When we got there, I had to get both kids settled at two ends of the pool by myself. I told them to take off their shirts and flip flops. They both did. I was perplexed by Bop’s willingness to do so with just one command but didn’t want to get my hopes up. I decided to get DJ settled and then deal with Bop.

He was a bit shy at first. Instead of sitting with his feet in the pool next to his peers, he sat behind them. The female lead teacher (not Ms. Katie) asked who his teacher was the day before. I told her but added he didn’t do well and wouldn’t stay with her in the water. She instead assigned him to a young man who looks more like a football player than a swimmer.

Scoot and I stood about 6 feet from the pool watching nervously, waiting for him to freak again. Bop kept looking back at us, but instead of reaching for me like he had on Monday, he’d smile and wave.

My hopes rose as the tension in my shoulders dropped.

After about five minutes I was able to go sit on the side with the other parents. Bop was smiling, listening and (are you sitting down for this one?) doing his “kickers!”

I was so proud of him! Afterwards I met his teacher and explained what happened the day before. He said, “No, he did great!”

Bop got his candy and I got what I’ve been waiting a year for: a huge Bop smile, a show of pride in his accomplishment and his enthusiastic head nod when asked if he wants to go back tomorrow.

These times come when parenting. A brief moment to take a deep breath and revel in the successes of your child before they’re off to climb their next mountain.

We’ve been spoiled with DJ. He’s given us these moments slowly and steadily throughout his whole life. We’ve had to invest more in milestones with Bop. But I have to tell you, I’m finally seeing the myriad joys that come with raising both a tortoise and a hare.