As I think about struggles in school a bit more, it brings me back to something that I’ve puzzled out and been kicking around for a while. Here it is: Everybody gets something.
What’s that? It’s a tiny bit unclear? Well, here’s what I mean.
Remember when we were all pregnant? Some people had swollen ankles and some didn’t. Some people had itchy skin, some didn’t. Some had gestational diabetes. Some had to have antibiotic iv. Some folks did the whole business at home when the time came and some people scheduled c-sections in big hospitals.
And then we all had newborns, and some slept, and some didn’t. Some nursed fine, and some didn’t. We had babies and some crawled fast, and some didn’t. Some ate everything in sight, some went on quirky one ingredient diets, some came to the table with their game faces on. Then we had toddlers, and some of them expressed themselves in complete, grammatically accurate sentences while others grunted and pointed. Some potty trained themselves, while others had parents compelled to research just how big diaper sizes get.
And it seems, it’s still like that. At school, some kids are hanging their coats in their cubbies just fine. Others, not so much. Some are reading every word on the wall, others are still flipping their Bs and Ds. Some kids sit on the rug and listen silent and rapt to the lesson. Others chew on their neighbor’s sweater. Everybody gets something.
And the something you get, in your kid, is the something you handle. It might not be easy, but you manage the [bed sharing/non eating/bed peeing/obscenely early rising/mitten losing] because what choice do you have? And you talk to other parents, and they tell you that their kid is [bed sharing/non eating/bed peeing/obscenely early rising/mitten losing] and you think “Sheesh. Lucky we don’t have that. I couldn’t handle that.” Because everybody gets something.
And your something is also your beloved child, for whom you would do [almost] anything. And that’s really something.