We live in a world that doesn’t really celebrate late bloomers. In fact, from the time our kids are just tiny babies, we celebrate every early accomplishment they make: the early walker, the early talker, the early reader, the early writer.
On the flip side, if our baby is a year old we might hate admitting they’re not sleeping through the night yet. And if our 3 year old is still in diapers, we might make embarrassed excuses for him, “you know, some boys are a little slower to potty train.”
When our daughter is 4 and more interested in playing in the mud than learning to write her name, we might worry that she’s falling behind her peers.
And when our son still doesn't know his letters and sounds at 5, we’re terrified that he’ll never catch up on reading.
No one seems to be celebrating the late reader, the later writer, the late talker, the late walker. We might feel a sense of relief when they finally do meet a milestone, but we’re certainly less likely to share a post on Instagram that our late writer has finally mastered his name in the wobbly script his friends mastered 2 years ago.
Why is that?
Are we ashamed? Embarrassed? Afraid we or our child will be seen as less than?
Maybe its a little bit of all those things.
As parents we want so badly for our kids to be the best at all the things, that we sometimes forget that their best might happen at a different time than everyone else.
No parent is immune to this worry. And I think that should bind us together and offer such comfort. Yet the parent of a late bloomer often feels so lonely in their journey.
That’s one of the reasons I love the children’s book, “Leo the Late Bloomer.”
This book is a very simple story, but contains such wisdom and comfort for any parent who is watching and waiting for their little one to bloom.
The story starts out with Leo, a little tiger, tangled amidst the blooms of a flowering plant. “Leo couldn’t do anything right,” the text reads. Oh, haven't we all felt that about our later bloomers at some point?
Leo’s friends, an owl, elephant, snake, red plover, and crocodile can all read, write, draw, talk and eat without making a mess. But Leo can do none of these things.
“What’s the matter with Leo?” asked Leo’s father.
“Nothing,” said Leo’s mother. “Leo is just a late bloomer.”
Leo’s father struggles with this idea. Which I can relate to. He watches Leo, worrying, as Leo simply dig holes in the snow while his friends make beautiful ice sculptures. But Leo’s mother remains calm. I so long for her gentleness and trust as she waits patiently for her cub to bloom when he’s ready.
And of course, one day he does! We can’t help but celebrate with Leo as he learns to read and draw and write and then say his very first words, “I made it!” I remember reading this book as a child and feeling happiness for Leo. Its the same happiness we should feel for our own late bloomer or the happiness we should feel for our friends and their later bloomers.
Its such a temptation to compare our kids to every other kid around them. But we really need to give our kids and ourselves a break. No more hovering and worrying. More trusting that, most of the time, our kids will bloom when they’re ready.
As a mother to a few late bloomers myself, I can tell you that I’ve spent a lot of time playing the role of Leo’s dad. I worried and pushed and hovered and it was to no avail. My later reader read when he was ready, at 8 years old. He’s 13 now and reads above grade level and is doing just fine. It was hard to believe that would happen when I was in the midst of it. But it did. He bloomed!
Determined to be more like Leo’s mother with my second child, I didn’t worry about his late blooming. But as time went by and reading and writing remained a big struggle for him, it eventually become clear that this wasn’t a later blooming problem. Something more was going on.
And that right there is the real reason that most parents struggle to fully celebrate their late bloomers. Its why we’re more often like Leo’s dad than Leo’s mom. Because we worry this will be our outcome. We worry there really is a problem. We worry that by not identifying it soon enough, we’ll have failed our kids.
I get it.
I wish I had not been quite so relaxed as I waited for my son to bloom. He definitely needed extra help. Thankfully he’s getting it now and making great leaps with a teacher who understands his needs and can teach him in ways I cannot.
I’d further add that I don't think my son's case is the norm. More often than not, the late blowing isn’t an indication of a serious problem. Experts want to make us believe that it is. But the truth is, not every child learns to read at 5. Just like every child doesn't learn to walk at 1. Most of the time, they just need a little more time in the sun to bloom when they’re ready.
And now I’m here with my 3rd son, another later bloomer. In some ways he’s felt like the latest bloomer of them all. He’s immature in so many ways, and every once in a while I’ve caught myself wondering, “will he ever bloom?”
But over the past few months, he’s been blossoming. He’s finally able to make his hands draw the pictures in his head, and now he spends hours drawing pictures, the floor around him littered with papers and pens and markers. Because he hasn't bloomed quite enough to not make gigantic messes every time he creates.
Last week he said he wanted to practice reading, and on our first lesson he mastered identifying letters and sounds and piecing together words with ease. I waited until he was ready because I knew pushing him wouldn’t work. We’d both hate it. He’s 6 and a half. That means he’s miles behind many of his same age peers. But he’s also miles ahead of both of his brothers at that age.
Which just goes to show that every single kid needs to be given their own time table for blooming. And that the wise parents waits. And when something seems truly amiss, the wise parent is brave enough to face that. If not, she’ll let her child bloom when he’s ready. And then she’ll celebrate him!
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