As I sat in a bright plastic chair, I watched my son, Noah, during his speech therapy session. His therapist, whom we affectionately refer to as The Language Wizard, sat across from him with a small table in between. This was Noah’s first session aimed at addressing his lateral lisp.
The therapist pulled out a colorful bingo-like board filled with circular indentations, each housing an image of a different-colored snake. Beside it, a pile of assorted colored chips awaited. I observed curiously as the session unfolded.
“Can you say ‘ta’ for me? Like this: ‘Ta, ta,’” she instructed.
“Ta, ta,” Noah echoed, doing his best.
The game involved him saying the sounds correctly, after which he would earn a chip to place on the board. The goal was to cover all the blank spots. Simple enough, right? Not quite.
Noah wasn’t struggling with his speech or focusing on the task; instead, the game itself posed a challenge. When he first earned a chip, he asked where to put it. The therapist told him he could choose any spot, but confusion clouded his face as he sought a clearer directive. After several attempts to clarify, he finally placed the chip down.
It quickly became evident that his choice wasn’t random. Each chip’s color had to correspond with a snake of the same hue; if there was no match, he would ask for guidance again. As he continued, I realized that Noah has a strong need for order—a trait I had occasionally noticed but had dismissed as coincidence.
A few weeks later, on our family road trip, we stopped at a gas station. Inside, a row of ceramic bells caught Noah’s attention. Before long, the delightful sound of tinkling bells filled the air. As I tried to pull him away, he protested, intent on finishing his self-imposed task of organizing the blue bells in a line.
This shouldn’t have surprised me; I, too, have a tendency to seek order and structure in my daily life. When plans go awry or spontaneity arises, I often find myself anxious and overwhelmed. This raises a question for me: Have my habits inadvertently influenced Noah’s behavior? Is his desire for structure something he was born with, or a result of the environment we’ve created?
For the past three years, our mornings have been tightly scheduled, with us out the door by 7:30 a.m. on weekdays. Noah spends nearly nine hours in daycare, where every activity has a set time. My commitment to my career has exposed him to the rhythm and routine of adult life, where everything has a designated moment and purpose.
As I reflect, I wonder how different things might have been if I were a stay-at-home mom. I may never know the answer, but one thing is clear: we all need breaks from the rigidity of our routines. Noah has shown me that it’s essential to take a step back and embrace spontaneity.
I must remind myself to carve out time for us to enjoy life’s little surprises—like indulging in ice cream before dinner or taking an impromptu drive to see holiday lights. Although Noah hasn’t yet developed my obsessive tendencies, I still have time to teach him the value of spontaneity and joyful chaos. Perhaps, in the process, I’ll learn to appreciate it too. One thing is certain: I’ll never let another vacation day go unused. We need those breaks, and they’re worth so much more than just a day off.
Thanks to Noah and The Language Wizard for this valuable lesson.
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Summary:
Embracing spontaneity with our children can be a refreshing break from the structured routines we often adhere to. Through everyday moments, we can learn to appreciate the joy of creative chaos, which not only benefits our kids but also enriches our own lives.