My wife and I joke that our kiddo has been an active little one since before he was anyone at all. At our first ultrasound, when he was the size of a blueberry, the technician kept moving the sensor around because our little bean was flipping out of the frame. He kicked nonstop in my uterus, sometimes waking my wife with the force of his fetal movements.
The day after he was born, he lifted his little head and tried to look at the room around him. At just over a month old, he flipped over for the first time. Over the past two and a half years, we’ve seen him do things he was absolutely not supposed to be able to do, over and over again. Climbing ladders, running, jumping, he was always ahead of the curve.
My wife and I could not be prouder of our precocious toddler, although we do struggle to keep up with him. Part of why we dress him in bright clothes is so that we can see him as he races around the playground. I’m in pretty good shape, but even I can’t always catch him without a bit of effort. When we hang with other families, the parents often comment that he’s really fast. They’re absolutely right.
Where he struggles is, naturally, the inverse of this skill—staying put. It’s great to be a little Energizer Bunny, except when one needs to finish one’s meal. Or get dressed. Or participate in a group activity. At any of those moments, all of us humans are supposed to understand how to put our engine in neutral and have a seat.
Supposed to.
I am also a person with an active engine, which explains, to an extent, where our kiddo gets his energy from. During my lifetime, I have learned the hard way that there are certain things I’m supposed to know how to do (like sitting still) and that an inability to meet those expectations doesn’t get a good response. To say the least.
Over time, I’ve picked up coping mechanisms so that my constant need for movement is masked. Fidget toys are a huge help. With a lot of meetings taking place on Zoom I can fidget off screen. Also, working from home means I can lift…
