Last week on my personal blog, I wrote about Peanut Butter the pony and how Harrison refused to sit on ol’ P. Butter for a school picture. I wanted those pony pictures so badly but Harry was far more comfortable in a beach scene and that’s just how he is, so I love him for it. (see also: serious cute pictures in that post)
The other weekend, I took Harrison to the local children’s museum since we had free tickets. My husband had other responsibilities, so it was just me and the kiddo early in the morning. I thought it would be a great way to get out of the Southern heat and give Harry something kid-centered to do without standing at my ankles begging for me to play cars, or LEGOS, or to go for a walk. I knew they had a bus and huge pirate ship, so I figured it would be right up his alley.
He was so intimidated by all of the children and parents and activities running in a flurry around him. He nervously stared at the vast train sets where several other children gathered, but couldn’t muster the courage to walk over — even as I held his hand and reassured him that I wouldn’t leave his side. I managed to get him on the play firetruck structure and he gave a small smile, but when I put on the fireman hat and offered him one, he hopped off.
I sighed. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we should just call it a day and head home.
But something in me whispered to give him time, to find a quieter place where he could explore and gain confidence in that chaos. We found a small yellow submarine station and I watched as he walked up to the “control station” with the buttons and sounds and in a few minutes, he was pushing them with glee. Then he raced over to peek into the microscope, up on his tip toes. Another twenty minutes and he was climbing stairs and squealing with other children on the big pirate ship, and two hours later when it was time to go, he teared up and begged to stay.
My little boy, he just needs time. And I need to remember that.
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