Buzz has a tendency to run amok. He is high energy, that kid. I was hoping it was something that would miraculously fix itself at daybreak on his 4th birthday, but he’s still going strong. He finds any opportunity he can to dart away, out of arm’s length, and simply laughs when I try to call him back. He keeps me on my exhausted toes.
He has speech class on Thursday afternoons. We sit in the waiting room and while he can be antsy, he’s usually patient enough. This last time, though, he was everywhere. Trying to run out the door or weave between chairs. Or simply anywhere away from me. I’d get up to chase him when all other options failed and immediately felt as if I transformed into “that” parent. The one who doesn’t have a handle on anything. The one who should give a call to Nanny 911. It’s bad enough when he’s on his worst behavior at home, but it’s so much worse out in public.
I could have focused on this and been upset, with him and my inabilities. It wouldn’t have been unheard of. Instead, I’ve been making a more conscientious effort to say please and thank you. Positive reinforcement in lieu of negative admonishment. There in the waiting room, after holding him back yet again, I forced myself full of affirmation. Because God knows the alternative wasn’t working.
Thank you for turning around. Thank you for keeping me on my toes. Thank you for your energy. Thank you for your smile. Thank you for showing me a different way. Thank you for those brief moments to catch my breath. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for being my son.
Now, PLEASE, sit down and stop it.