Tonight I watched my 15-month old son drag a wooden zebra around the house. Each time he pulled the black string that was connected to it’s wooden nose, it tipped and he ended up dragging the poor zebra (affectionately nicknamed Zebbie) on its side.
The chips and dents on Zebbie’s wodden frame indicate he’s been through a lot lately.
Sometimes Zebbie isn’t even dragged, he’s picked up off the linoleum floor (which by the way now needs replacing) and expedited across the main floor of the house by a shrieking toddler, excited beyond control by everything and anything.
Zebbie swings in all directions, narrowly missing the coffee table (it too needs replacing now) and eventually Zebbie gets discarded for something else – tonight it was the intense desire for my son to lick the glass sliding door leading to our backyard. Delicious.
As bedtime approached, Zebbie was favoured once more. Dragged by the not-so delicate touch of a baby ready for sleep, suddenly Zebbie’s familiar side position no longer satisfied my little guy. A waterworks erupted out of the corner of each eye – uncontrollable sobs that translated into, “Why won’t Zebbie roll like he’s supposed to?”
My dear little boy doesn’t realize that he’s moving far too fast for Zebbie to keep up. As I watched the sequence repeat itself – over and over again – it reminded me of life and how we all have a pace that is uniquely ours and no one else’s. Sometimes we drag people along for the ride, expecting them to keep up. Sometimes we are the ones being dragged.
Tonight, Zebbie was given a break – thanks to bedtime – and so was that determined little boy (also thanks to bedtime).
The lesson is all of this is two-fold:
- Don’t take a day job as a wooden, roller zebra
- Know when to give you and the zebra a break