The Kid You Have Is Better Than the Kid You Imagined
Before we have kids, we know an alarming amount about the children we're going to raise.
Obviously.
They're going to eat vegetables.
Sleep beautifully.
Enjoy family outings.
Behave appropriately in restaurants.
Wear the adorable outfit we purchased specifically for the occasion.
And when it's time to leave somewhere?
We'll simply say, “Okay, time to go!”
And they will apparently respond:
“Of course, Mother.”
It's adorable that we believed this.
Then an actual child arrives.
With opinions.
Preferences.
A nervous system.
A personality.
Very specific feelings about socks.
And suddenly the imaginary child we've been parenting in our heads has some competition.
The child in front of us was never supposed to match the one we pictured.
They were supposed to become themselves.
We Carry More Expectations Than We Realize
Sometimes the expectation is obvious.
Maybe we imagined raising an athlete and our kid would rather draw for three hours.
Maybe we pictured a social butterfly and got a child who needs twenty minutes to warm up before speaking to anybody.
Maybe the family activity everybody else loves is the exact activity our child cannot wait to escape.
But often the expectations are much smaller.
They should be able to wear this.
They should enjoy this.
They should be able to sit through this.
They should be excited about this.
They should respond the way their sibling does.
They should be over this by now.
And that little word—should—can get heavy fast.
Sometimes “they should be able to” really means “I expected them to.”
Different Is Not a Detour
There can be a strange temptation in parenting to measure progress against everybody else.
Their sibling.
Their cousin.
The kid in the same class.
The milestone chart.
The child on Instagram who apparently eats sushi, folds laundry and discusses emotional regulation at age four.
Good for him.
My question is:
Who is your kid?
What makes them laugh?
What overwhelms them?
What makes them feel safe?
What are they unexpectedly good at?
What do they notice that everyone else misses?
What helps them come back to themselves when the day gets too big?
That information is worth far more than whether they're doing childhood exactly the way somebody else is.
Sometimes Parenting Is Translation
A child says, “I hate it.”
Maybe they mean:
It's too loud.
A child says, “I don't want to go.”
Maybe they mean:
I don't know what will happen when we get there.
A child refuses the shirt.
Maybe they mean:
That seam has been attacking me personally since 7:04 this morning.
A child keeps moving.
Maybe moving is how they're able to stay engaged.
A child needs a break.
Maybe that's not quitting.
Maybe that's noticing what their body needs.
Behavior is information.
We don't have to excuse everything to become curious about what it's telling us.
Knowing Them Doesn't Mean Removing Every Hard Thing
Our kids still need boundaries.
They still have to learn.
They will encounter things they don't like.
They'll need practice doing hard things.
Understanding your child isn't the same as arranging the entire world so they're never uncomfortable.
It's knowing the difference between:
This is challenging, and I can support you through it.
and
This is overwhelming you, and pushing harder isn't teaching what I think it's teaching.
That's not always an easy distinction.
Parenting would be much more convenient if children came with dashboards.
Low fuel.
Overheated.
Needs snack.
Sock emergency.
Unfortunately, we've mostly been given detective work.
Notice What Works
If your child does better when you tell them the plan ahead of time, tell them the plan.
If they need ten minutes alone after school, build in ten minutes.
If movement helps, let them move.
If the crowded event isn't working, stepping outside isn't a failure.
If they're happier wearing the same three shirts, congratulations on your extremely efficient wardrobe.
We spend a lot of energy trying to correct what doesn't work.
Maybe we should also study what does.
The goal isn't to make our children easier to parent.
It's to get better at knowing them.
The Child in Front of You
Maybe they're nothing like you expected.
Good.
Because expectations are imaginary.
This kid isn't.
This kid is funny in a way you couldn't have planned.
Complicated in ways you're still learning.
Talented at things you never thought to look for.
Sensitive to things you barely notice.
Growing into somebody neither of you has met yet.
You don't have to raise the child you pictured.
You get to know the one who showed up.
And the more clearly we see them,
the less they have to work to become somebody else. ❤️
