How My Son Taught Me to Fall in Love with Reading All Over Again

Photo: Child sitting on a couch, pointing to a picture book; Text: How My Son Taught Me to Fall in Love with Reading All Over Again

“I don’t mind if my kid doesn’t read in kindergarten,” I thought to myself when I heard about schools raising standards of what they expect kids to know. “That’s so early anyway.”

But my lack of expectations didn’t keep a smile from spreading over my face as we sat with my five-year-old on the couch. Book in hand, I was listening to him recognize short sight words and painfully sound out longer ones. “My kid is reading!!” my mind and heart screamed, like a fan girl at a teenybopper concert. Instead, my mouth said, “You’re doing awesome, honey! I can tell how hard you’re working on reading.”

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How Learning About Myself Helped Me Understand My Son

 

How Learning About Myself Helped Me Understand My Son (Photo: Screenshot of results of the sensation seeker test from the Highly Sensitive Person website)

“An 12, huh,” I muttered to myself, looking at my computer screen. I had just taken the “Are You a Sensation Seeker?” self-assessment on the Highly Sensitive Child website. I finally had a word to put to something I’ve known for a long time about myself. And more importantly, I also had a word for something I realized much more recently about my older son.

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Why Rock-Climbing With My Son Helped Me Let Go

Photo: A woman belaying a child who is climbing up an indoor climbing wall. (Text: How Rock-Climbing With My Son Helped Me Let Go)

“You got it, you got it!” I yell to my five-year-old as he reaches for a hold on a rock-climbing wall. He stretches his arm just far enough and grabs it. I reach up to the rope attached to him, pull down, and move my hand back to its original position in one smooth motion.
As I run the rope through my hands, I realize his life is literally in my hands. If he falls, it’s on me to catch him. The rope is the only thing keeping him from the ground and I am in control of it.

But this thought doesn’t spark any anxiety. Lots of things make me nervous, but this – as perilous as hanging 25 feet up may seem – wasn’t one of them.

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When a Dinner Conversation Can Have a Big Impact

When a Dinner Conversation Can Have a Big Impact (Photo: Open container of ranch dressing on a wooden table)

“But I want the cool sauce!” my five year old whined. We had just moved the container of ranch dressing closer to his two-year-old brother, so he could dip his chicken wing in it.

“Mine!” my younger son proclaimed.

“You guys need to share it,” I said.

“Then it should be in the middle!” my older son pointed out. To him, the solution favoring his brother was quite unjust.

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When a Parenting Fail is a Win in Disguise

When a Parenting Fail is a Win in Disguise (Photo: Young boy in a very long multicolored sweater on a path)

Going for a hike on a brisk day, I asked my then four-year-old if he wanted his sweatshirt. “No!” he insisted. Nonetheless, I was going to be the responsible mom and bring it along anyway. Just in case.

Arriving at the hiking trail, he climbed out of his car seat and declared, “I’m coooold! So cold!”

Going to look for the sweatshirt, my smile dropped off my face. Nope, not there. Not there either. Crap, I forgot it.

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The Two Powerful Questions I Ask My Child Every Night

Want to build connection at bedtime? Here are the two bedtime questions we discuss every night with our kids. 

The Two Powerful Questions I Ask My Son Every Night (Photo: Young white child sleeping on a pillow)

“Two minutes left!” I say to my five-year-old as he gets ready for bed. He is not going to be ready in two minutes. We’ll be down to one bedtime book tonight instead of two. But no matter how late he is, there’s one part of his bedtime routine we never skip.

We call it “favorite things,” but it’s a bit more complicated than that. Rather, it’s a nightly conversation framed by two core questions.

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When Biking Together is Just the Beginning

When Biking Together Is Just the Beginning (Photo: Young white boy on a bike, pedaling down a multi-use path)

Stay right, stay right!” I yell. Pedaling behind him, I watch my five-year-old wobble down the pavement on his bike. While he’s put in hours of practice at the nearby park, this is his first time on the road.

Despite my urgent tone, my heart is calm. He follows my directions, moving right when asked and braking on cue. At stop signs, he stops feet before the line. He even yells, “Stop!” to warn me. Despite the wobbly shoulders, it’s as if he’s done this a million times before.

This was a vast contrast to a year ago.

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What Happens When We Step Back as Parents?

What Happens When We Step Back as Parents? (Photo: Young white boy holding a t-ball bat)

A white plastic ball. A red and blue t-ball stand. A a diminutive kid holding a large, yellow plastic bat.

Watching this scene play out at the playground with my two-year-old son, I tried not to interfere. After all, I thought, he should try it on his own. That is, until he started poking the ball with the narrow end of the bat. Poking it!

I walked over and tried to adjust his hands into the right position. “Look, you swing the bat!” I insisted.

And because my children are nothing of not their own people, he insisted right back.

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How My Kids Are Helping Me Learn a New Skill

How My Kids Are Helping Me Learn a New Skill (Photo: White woman holding an acoustic guitar with two kids in front of her)

“That is a noise a guitar should never make.” I wince as my five-year-old scratches the strings of my acoustic guitar again. “Seriously, knock it off.”

He switches to strumming. The out-of-tune notes combine together in a way that’s the opposite of harmonic.

“It sounds beautiful!” he proclaims.

“Uh, it really doesn’t,” I respond. “It really needs to be tuned.”

My two-year-old squeaks, “Tune!” and grabs the knobs on the top of the guitar’s neck, turning them wildly. So much for getting it more, rather than less, in tune.

As much as this entire process pains me, I keep getting the guitar out.

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The Most Important Thing My Five Year Old Taught Me About Writing

The Most Important Thing My Five Year Old Taught Me About Writing (Photo: Journal with smiling sloths on it)

“What was your favorite thing today?” I asked my then four-year-old at bedtime. Earlier that day, we had our monthly “special afternoon” together, where we went to an indoor playspace with a giant artificial mountain and stopped at Starbucks afterwards for hot chocolate.

“Getting my journal!” he exclaimed. After hot chocolate, we had picked out a journal for him decorated with smiling sloths. Although he can’t write more than his name yet, he had been telling us stories and asking us to write them down. Instead of pieces of folded paper scattered all over the house, we thought it would be better to write them down in one place.

Hearing this answer warmed my writer’s soul to the core. It was completely unexpected and completely genuine.

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