So...While we fully believe in letting the kids explore the world and learn at their own pace, we (and by "we," I of course mean "I") have been a bit stressed over the writing thing. Big Z is a brilliant reader, and a bookworm at that. But she hasn't been at the same pace with her writing. And every time I push the issue, she digs in her heels and resists.
Trust her, trust her, trust her, I whisper to myself. No rush, no hurry, life is not a race. And I truly think this, but outside pressures get to be a bit much at times. We are so focused on results, on outcomes, on products.
But then...the kids come with me to my dance class, and sit quietly waiting for me in the hall with backpacks full of papers, crayons, pencils, and toys. Sitting on the lawn afterwards, waiting for their dad to come pick us up, Z asks me how to spell one word, and lets me read the poems she was writing during my class.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Beauty and enthusiasm and peace, this is what comes of letting her get there on her own, of trusting her. But is it her I have to learn to trust, or is it me? A little bit of both, I think.