As any parent knows, drama unfolds right before our eyes on a daily basis in kitchens and carpools. In our house we're currently riveted by a mighty struggle unfolding at floor level. Propelled by powerful forces from within, my 9-month-old granddaughter, Anya, is obsessed with learning to crawl, and we follow her progress as though watching her scale the final pitch of Mt. Everest.
This child was born with a temperament of blissful cheerfulness that the most evolved monk would envy, and until a couple of weeks ago, she was content to spend her waking hours babbling, waving, showing her adoring audience "soooo big" and lighting up the room with her bright smile. Then one day an object that was out of her range became something she had to have, and now even her sleep has become fitful, as though she can't stand to waste precious time slumbering….
Elsewhere in the house, our 16-year-old is engaged in her own quest. She started rowing almost two years ago when she didn't manage to sign up for the volunteering work that was her first choice for a summer activity, and so faced a long stretch with nothing scheduled. Not willing to have an idle teen in the house, I told her she had to find something to keep her busy during the summer — and fast — so she signed up for a rowing camp. Until then Lily had not been very athletic, but she took to rowing immediately and now is summoning the same strengths that got her crawling 15-plus years ago to get to her out-of-reach toy – the "perfect"stroke.
What ignites in Anya the desire to crawl or in Lily to row is as mysterious as the force that gets a baby bird to push off from the nest on a first flight. I'm pretty certain that the cheers of parents (and grandparents) celebrating their progress are fun music in the background but not what propels these two. Our role in getting Anya from flailing like a beached whale to a crawler who we chase across the room and Lily gliding through water at her optimum speed and grace, is limited largely to spectator and support team. We can take off Anya's slippery socks to increase her traction on the wood floor and drive Lily to practice, but the desire, determination, hard-work and single-minded focus all come from within.
Every month in Seattle's Child we write about the myriad of different ways we educate, nurture, protect, feed and have fun with our kids. If we're successful, you the reader are reminded there are as many ways to be a good mom or dad as there are moms and dads, and that in everyday life with your kids you have front-row seats in a theater worthy of Shakespeare – desire, struggle, rage, love, triumph, joy, mystery and magic.
Hope you can sit back occasionally and enjoy the show.
Ann Bergman
Editor / Publisher
