A few months ago, when we were trying to get Jack to walk, one of the staff of our daycare said something that resonated with me when I asked how he was doing with his walking. "Jack can do it. He's just lazy." she said simply. A little harsh, maybe, but also completely true. We often talk about how the boy will live with us into his thirties while Molly becomes CEO of the universe.
Jack's slow tempo reminds me of mine as a child. In the first grade I had a classmate who found our teacher's grading system inadequate. Her marking scheme of Perfect, Almost Perfect, Good, You can Do It wasn't cutting the mustard for him. He asked her, in front of the entire class, if she could provide his grades in percentiles. I clearly remember being pleased with the rainbow sticker I got on my test and thinking, "You're six, who cares."
In retrospect I wish I had more of my You're Young - Enjoy Life, stop being such a nerd Michael attitude today.**
Jackie says walking is for chumps.
Recently we've been attempting to get the minions to walk up the pathway, out of daycare and to the car. This was encouraged by daycare to allow us to complete drop off and pick up without having to roll a child under each arm as if they're a keg of beer.
In the morning we are usually running too late and are too preoccupied about getting into work on time to worry about making them walk the path.*** We grab one child each, direct them towards their toys and friends, fill out some paper work**** and sprint back to the car so we can head to the subway and get stuck in a massive transit delay. This leaves pick-up for us to work on the big walk up the path.
Molly loves the walk up the path to the car. She stops, waves and blows kisses at other parents and kids, literally, like she's running for office, while she slowly makes her way to the car...easy peasy. The boy, not so much. When you pick Jackie up from daycare, you physically must pick him up from daycare. Otherwise he throws himself onto the ground and sobs like you're breaking his heart. This has gone on for over a week now - until yesterday.
There is that old expression about food being the key to a man's heart. Arrowroot cookies and Smarties are the key to Jack's new found ability to walk the path. Who doesn't need a snack while they watch Queen Molly greets her royal subjects on the red carpet?
So when you see me pushing my future eight year old in a stroller, please don't judge or my daughter will give you a piece of her mind.
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*Miss Molly has embraced her role as twin A, Type A, Older sister and tattle tale by age 19 months. Do something wrong, I dare you, go play with that plug outlet. She will point at you and wag her finger at you and maybe yell, "Jack No!"
**Then again I'm sure my parents wouldn't appreciate me living under the pool table in the basement at 34 years of age.
***This is often caused by a chain of dirty diapers produced several times in the 20 minutes between awake minions and out the door minions.
****Basically signing a promise that we will eventually pick up our progeny from daycare.
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