I eat fast. Really fast. My mother once asked me if I had perhaps starved in a past life. Sometimes, I don’t think I even taste my food.
My child can take an hour to eat a scoop of ice cream. The words “Hurry up” bring her instantly to tears. She has always moved to the beat of her own drum.
She has been struggling, a bit, with math. It’s too fast for her. And knowing she is being timed just makes it worse. She has always had performance anxiety, which is sad to watch (from where I’m sitting). She’s such a talented singer and artist. But the thought of anyone “watching” her makes her insane. The thought of “messing up” and knowing that people witnessed it is too much for her to handle. I know this is a required step in child development, but it’s a little more than that.
Of course I blame myself for her falling behind a bit in math. It’s not my strong suit. And, by the time I get home I’m hurrying to make dinner, hurrying her to do her homework, hurrying her to bathe, and get ready for bed. I’m not helping. And there isn’t much time for anything else.
Today, she brought home a piece of paper from school. I asked, “When did you do this?” She said, “We had free time during reading.”