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Navigating the Journey with My Unique Child
Parenting Insights by Claire Vath
Updated: January 27, 2015
Originally Published: July 7, 2011
Today’s weather was delightful—an inviting 65 degrees with a clear blue sky. I embarked on an outing with our bright red wagon, packed with sippy cups and snacks, accompanied by my two children: a three-year-old boy and a nearly two-year-old girl. Both are sensitive and spirited in their own ways. We headed to the zoo, alongside hundreds of others eager to enjoy the sunshine.
While my youngest delighted in the wagon ride, my son confidently approached each animal enclosure, peering through the fences. Just yesterday, he had been timid and clinging to me in the occupational therapist’s office, where we sought a screening after his well-meaning Mother’s Day Out teachers suggested he might not be ready for preschool.
My son, with his expressive honey-colored eyes, lights up at the sight of tigers, lions, and giraffes. However, he often exhibits signs of being highly sensitive and somewhat babyish, especially at home, where he resorts to whining or crying over minor frustrations—like a cookie that fell or an unwanted glance from his sister. At school, he seeks comfort through hugs, requesting reassurances that I will return after lunch. Despite being shy, he engages with other kids but primarily enjoys the train tables, playground, and books. Yet, during circle time, when asked to participate, he often retreats into himself, exhibiting a drastic transformation akin to a butterfly reverting to a caterpillar.
During one observation, I watched as a teacher gently encouraged him to engage. He stood frozen, hoping to be overlooked. When prompted to walk and pick a shape, he moved slowly, almost painfully, resembling Charlie Brown. Despite my overwhelming urge to shout, “Just pick it up!” I remained silent, feeling helpless. The more the teacher coaxed him, the more he seemed to retreat.
In another setting—occupational therapy—after some coaxing, my son sat in a small chair, visibly nervous. The kind therapist handed him a crayon, but he awkwardly gripped it with his right hand while covering his forehead with his left, timidly dotting the page. As I sat next to him, I bit my lip, resisting the urge to correct his grip. He was presented with various activities—cutting, drawing, and naming objects—many of which he struggled with. The term “mildly developmentally delayed” was noted on a green sheet of paper, prompting me to question whether a just-turned three-year-old truly needed to master scissors.
Yet, today at the zoo, my son appeared like any other child, immersed in the joy of observing animals and basking in the sun’s warmth. This moment prompted reflections on whether all children harbor hidden struggles, as parenting often involves heartache over our children’s challenges.
In this beautiful environment, I felt a wave of healing wash over me. The uplifting brightness of the day, the gentle breeze, and my son’s affectionate nature—freely offering hugs and “I love yous”—reminded me of the beauty in his unique qualities. Today, I glimpsed the perfection within my son, often labeled “imperfect.”
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In summary, parenting a sensitive child presents unique challenges, but amidst these struggles lie moments of profound joy and connection. Embracing the imperfections allows for a richer, more rewarding parenting experience.