Written by Emily
I took Sylvie for a walk yesterday morning. It was a perfect day for strolling the neighborhood. The sun was shining, but we needed sweaters. The chill in the morning breeze promised sultry summer days are over. I’m glad.
We walked just the two of us. Without Noah and Chloe filling in the empty spaces with their giggles and squeals and, let’s be honest, their tortured screams, teases and taunts, our walk was quiet apart from a few barking dogs in the distance.
As Sylvie dragged her tiny fingers along our neighbor’s white fence, I narrated our morning constitutional. I pointed out all of the hints Mother Nature was giving us to show us fall was coming. In a sing song and with a smile, I talked about leaves and pumpkins and school buses.
Mid-sentence, Sylvie put her little paw up (now dirty from the fence) and said, “No, Mommy. Top.”
“Stop what?” I asked. Surely she doesn’t mean I should stop being a rockstar parent teaching her toddler about the changing seasons on a storybook kind of day. “Stop what, Syl?”
Gasp! Well, I never!
I opened my mouth to respond…
but then I closed it.
She was right. Everything doesn’t have to be a teachable moment; every second doesn’t have to be filled with my pearls of wisdom. Who was I to think I needed to narrate her walk? It was hers.
Sometimes quiet is good. Sometimes it’s more than enough. And sometimes the teachable moment is for me.