Different Strokes...

I have noticed a distinct difference between the way I mother Jack and the way I mothered Sailor when she was his age.

For example, at Gymboree classes, Jack refuses to participate in several of the group activities. There is a huge, inflated tube (for lack of a better word) that the children pound on with both hands while music is playing. When the song instructs them to "FREEZE!", they take their hands off the tube and whisper , "shhhh..."
Jack hates it. Really, truly hates it.

Now, had it been 6 years earlier and Sailor the one who wouldn't participate in class activities, I would be beside myself. I would be wearing myself out stressing about why she wouldn't play those particular games and coming up with all sorts of schemes (er, bribes) in order to ensure future participation. I can just see myself pushing Sailor in the corner, with tears in both our eyes, me wheedling and begging her to "just come out and play... see? All the other kids and THEIR mommies are playing!"

With Jack, we just skip happily together to the corner farthest from the rest of the class and roll balls back and forth until the "scary part" is over. The teacher (herself the mom of one toddler) has given me all sorts of tips and pointers to make Jack, who truly enjoys playing alone, "come out of his shell." I just smile politely and follow Jack back to his corner.

After nine years of parenting- after living and learning and spending way too much time in the corner trying to make Sailor do something she'd really rather not do, I'm wondering what's really wrong with Jack's little shell after all. As long as Sailor and Jack are healthy, happy and well-loved, I am more than content to just let them be. I say this with a lot of conviction right now, but I freely admit that I may be singing a different tune when Miss Nichols hits her teen years.

But for now I'm a wiser, happier Mama who lives for those moments when all the world is right, and I'm invited to spend a little time in my kids' cozy, colorful shells.