Children build new castles with the sands of time

By Dr. Heather Bozant Witcher
Young Adults, Clarion Herald

My twins have begun waking up in the morning and counting down how many school days they have. “Five schools; two home days.” Their excitement builds the closer we get to the home days.

At first, I thought something was off at school. After all, the summer program ended and the amount of kids in their schoolroom was cut by half as they entered kindergarten.

But, when I asked at school if there had been any difference, the teachers said the opposite. They had been more eager and willing to engage.

That makes sense. My children can be shy or easily overwhelmed. If there’s too many kids at the playground, they stay close to me, wanting me to join in on the slides and swings. And, when I asked if something was different about school, they regularly said no.

After a while, I started reflecting on my own thoughts and behaviors – didn’t I, too, look forward to the weekend? Didn’t I struggle to get out of bed on a Monday morning?

But I hadn’t thought the struggle started quite so early. They’re only 4 years old.

Maybe it’s not just the age. More and more I find myself in awe at how quickly time passes. They looked so small just a year ago.

But, it’s not just physical. It’s fascinating to see their brains at work. The puzzles and building blocks that had frustrated them mere months ago are now some of the best loved toys. Family game nights have been frequent requests. And, the sheer number of books that we check out from the library each week is staggering. (Yes, we read them all multiple times.)

That’s not the only reminder of brains under construction. The tantrums have become louder; the stubbornness inherited from both parents has begun to settle in. And, yet, each personality is different. They’re each individual persons, with their own temperaments and ideas. When did that happen?

No one teaches you in the school of life the paradox of motherhood – the holding close; the letting go. The slowing down, but I can’t wait.

Too often, we wish for the impossible (please, time, slow down; dear God, can’t we just grow up).

It’s a stark difference looking at the monitor these days as it switches from our youngest – still in a crib, still looking rather small, tucked in a corner – and the twins in their beds. They take over so much of the bed as they sprawl out.

How quickly, how quickly. Before we know it, what will be has been.

That’s the paradox of time.

And now, as I reflect on these morning countdowns, I wonder if they, too, feel the same way. The changing tides within their own bodies as they grapple with their own emotions and development. The eagerness of joining friends and learning new lessons; the not wanting to let go of mom’s hand and tugging closer for “just one more” hug and kiss.

We know the sands of time will slip, ever so quickly, down the slope of the time glass. It’s unstoppable.

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