Parents, you’ve got questions, we’ve got answers.

Or just as likely, we’ve got questions and you’ve got answers.

Challenge: Walking the Talk

How My Little Boy Has Slowed Me Down

Vote up!
Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Email this article

If I’m moving, I’m moving fast. Fast, fast, fast. I talk fast, walk fast, think fast. Before my feet hit where I’m going, my mind has already been there and it's movin’ on to my next destination. Fast, fast, fast.

So it seems fitting that the universe decided rather than give me a mover and shaker like myself, my son moves along at his own pace--sorta like Poky Little Puppy slow. Slow, slow, slow.


While he reserves this tortoise-like speed for our walks down the long hallways of his preschool or when we are dodging traffic in the grocery store parking lot, he isn’t always slow.

He only feels the need for speed when it serves him best: beating his sister down the stairs to get his little hands on the iPad; if I offer up a dessert (super-fast if it’s ice cream); or if I’m yelling STOP as he runs into the ocean or a pool. He already has that male selective hearing thing down. Who knew it was genetic.

His snail’s pace wasn’t noticeable until his sister came along and he lost my hip as his major mode of transportation. When he moved up to the big brother role, he had to hoof it next to me and I’ve been slowed down ever since.

If you see me moving towards you at lightning speed, take a look a few yards behind me. That’s where you'll find my boy. Just strolling along, no sense of urgency, taking it all in.

Every single day I plead with him to pick up the pace; however, my pleas fall upon those little ears with selective hearing.

When I’m on the move, he’s behind me hop, hop, hopping on just the blue floor tiles because the white are full of “hot lava.”

If I’m darting down the mall, he's dragging his feet and trailing his hands down the wall making sure to touch every crack and crevice.

“Buddy, come on! Hurry up! You are killing Mommy!”

“But Mommy, I’m just a little boy and my legs don’t move that fast.”

“Look alive, pal. LOOK ALIVE!”

“Mommy, I am ALIVE. Wanna play ‘I Spy’?”

If there is one thing I’ve learned as a mother (besides my amazing ability to pass back juice and Goldfish crackers to my backseat passengers while never taking my eyes off the road ), if you can’t beat them, join them.

So goodbye fast, fast,fast days. You can find me strolling alongside my guy, playing I Spy, and checking out the view from his perspective.

This post comes from the TODAY Parenting Team community, where all members are welcome to post and discuss parenting solutions. Learn more and join us! Because we're all in this together.