I have wanted to write this blog for a while now and now is finally the time. Fahlin is “s l o w.” A slowpoke. Piddler. Dawdler. Dilly-dallier. Snail. Straggler. You get the picture? It never fails, if she is getting ready for school, she is the last one ready. If it’s church, she is the last one. If it’s just to go anywhere, she is the last one.
But there is one thing you never want to do and that’s use the words, “Hurry up!” Oh my. If you say those two words, then get ready for the storm. She panics. She immediately shuts down. She is incapable of “hurrying up.” If fact, she does just the opposite. She goes slower. She sulks. She is totally flustered when she tries to hurry. She cannot function. If she’s trying her shoes, she suddenly forgets how. If she is looking for a jacket, suddenly she cannot find one. She gets upset. She huffs and puffs and snorts and stomps and mumbles under her breath.
It’s quit comical, but she doesn’t see the humor in “hurrying.” Of course, as you all well know by now, me being the great Dad that I am will fan the flames by adding to her stress. I will pick on her and her attitude by mocking her (in a fun Dad way of course, not in a mean spirited way). My wife will say something like, “Jim Chapman, stop agitating her!” or I’ll pick her up and kiss on her when she doesn’t want to be picked up and kissed on. Always makes things worse, according to my wife (with whom I often disagree on this point).
Eventually, she gets her act together, but not until we’ve exhausted every word of encouragement we can think of. Rare is the occasion she is first. It happens, but not often. I think we have finally realized that this is who she is. Fahlin the slow poke. Better a slow Fahlin than not having a Fahlin at all. We’ll take it!