This was meanness with a purpose: Simon learned to ride a bike this weekend! It’s something we should have gotten to ages ago, but our neighborhood is bad for bike riding (hills, no sidewalks, tons of street parking and alleys) and we’ve been busy building a runner, professional footballer, and the next Wimbledon champion. Amid all this running and ball playing, two things we really needed to knock out for safety and social development—swimming and bike riding—got left behind.

I’m confident we’ll get to swimming soon. Simon loved being in the pool this summer (the three times it was warm enough) and he was getting pretty close on his own. The bike was another story. He had little interest, but friends of his were learning and Matt and I realized that going into spring with training wheels was going to be a social liability.

He spent the night at the Whitworths’ this weekend, they have a perfect place to learn to ride (patio home community on one large circle), and so we decided that this was going to be the weekend it happened. Simon was excited but nervous.  He tried delay tactics: we ignored him. Once he learned to coast without pedals, the dimples were out and he was ready for pedals.

Then the bike got wobbly and he got scared. We ignored him. Then he got going with the pedals once or twice, but was unsure of the steering. We ignored him.* Then he pedaled and steered a ways, was briefly exhilarated, then sobbed because his bottom hurt. We called it a day.

Yesterday we were back. It was time to go around the entire circle. Simon didn’t want to, but I told him he had to anyway. This surprised him. Then I explained why:

“Simon, you know how we all laugh that you were almost two before you walked? Well, it won’t be funny if you are 12 before you ride a bike. Your friends can do this, and you need to do it, too. Get on.”

I think he understood me, but this was not the gentle, go-at-your-own-pace tone he expects from me. We ended up offering ice cream as a bribe, but even then it was a close call. He started off strong, then had some steering issues, and then complained about his bottom some more. The bike was too small for him, so I’m sure it was an uncomfortable ride. Still, I pressed. With about 10 yards before the finish line, Simon steered into a circle and fell over, then looked up at me and expected me to say something kind and reassuring. He got this instead:

“Get up and get back on! You’re not to the driveway yet.”

So there I was, meanly ignoring my child’s trauma and forcing him to bike—through tears!—to the finish line of the arbitrary course we set for him.

Once it was over he was proud of himself, and he sure loved the Graeter’s ice cream he got after dinner. This spring he’ll get a new bike and enjoy the social outings and relative independence a bike can bring. Having said that, I think it’s a lot more likely Simon will be playing midfield at World Cup 2026 than saddling up for the Tour de France. Also, while I don’t regret my firm line and borderline meanness, I do regret my lack of camera for the big event!

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* While possibly accurate from Jessica’s point of view, this is not at all a complete picture of what happened.  When Simon got wobbly, I told him how to pedal out of the wobble.  When Simon had steering problems, I told him to look in the direction he was trying to go.  Simon implemented both of these strategies for a while and he improved when he did. [Matt]

I wanted Amy to run his intake test again so I could see how far Simon has come and learn what I need to do to help him continue to catch up. With this context in mind, you can perhaps understand my surprise to discover that Simon is now slightly ahead of the curve. Yup, ahead. He does a few things that other children do, on average, at 23-26 months. How funny is that?

I am enormously grateful for the help we got and will miss spending time with Amy. I feel I need to thank, in no particular order, the following:

1.      Initial assessor Beth, who told me to put a weight in the Pooh Plane and have Simon cruise with that and not while hanging off of me.

2.      Amy, of course, for her advice on what I can do to help Simon find his way.

3.      Simon, for finding his way.

4.      Summer, for clearing the path. Would we be here today if I couldn’t take Simon to a park every single day? I think not.

To make the day a bit more celebratory, I had coffee and munchies at the house. Amy had to take hers on the road, but Simon took one look, walked over to his chair, asked to be put in it, and then proceeded to dust the better part of a blueberry muffin and a good third of my toasted poppy seed bagel with cream cheese. It wasn’t exactly what I had planned, but I suppose it only fitting since he is the celebrant.

So she came, and we decided she’d come again in three weeks to see how Simon is progressing. I’ll let her come, but it’s for two not entirely healthy reasons: For one, I’ll let her come because as long as I have to pay for July, I might as well get more than one session out of it. And in the second place, I want to show off.

Simon is progressing in leaps and bounds. He’s been walking pretty quickly for over a week now. At least once each day, I am thrilled to hear the thumpity-thump of not-so-little feet pounding away on the hardwood floors. Then yesterday he got into a higher gear and ran a bit.

We were so excited! Then, before we even had a chance to eat a victory brownie, he kicked a ball for his Auntie Jen the soccer player. His climbing skills remain limited, but it’s not for a lack of trying. He can climb on his sand and water table, up the stairs, and onto his train table. He tries to climb onto our bed and into and out of the bath-tub, too.

Not coincidentally, we are finding these new skills are accompanied by squeals, giggles, shouts, and bruises. Three out of four isn’t so bad.

As if that weren’t enough to be happy about, I’ve been working fewer hours of late (cashing in some comp time), we’ve enjoyed a long holiday weekend, we’re seeing advances in what Simon understands, and the summer weather has been glorious. It is truly a good time to be Simon and to be Simon’s mother.

Wednesday, I actually planned the following day. And I swear that at the time, this day seemed a bit busy perhaps, but also totally doable. Here it is:

• 7:30-9:30: Simon wakes up, we have breakfast, I shower and enjoy a leisurely cup of tea, then Simon and I play together for a bit.
• 9:30: Molly (the sitter) arrives for the day.
• 9:30: Amy (the physical therapist) arrives for Simon’s First Steps appointment.
• 10:00: Christopher arrives for the morning. He plays with Molly and/or plays with Simon during his therapy appointment.
• 10:30-1:30: I work, eat lunch, and supervise the landscaping in the front of the house and the deck building in the back.
• 1:30-3:00: I meet with my neighbor Lynn to cut down two trees along our property line in preparation for more landscaping work.
• 3:00: Molly leaves for the day; Simon and I play until 5:00 or so when Matt gets off work.
• 5:00-8:00: dinner and play-time
• 8:00: bedtime for Simon
• 8:00-10:00: household organization project continues (I’m overhauling the inside and out.)

HA!

Here’s what really happened:

• 9:00: Simon wakes up Our little sleep champ logged 12 ½ hours Tuesday night.
• 9:10-9:30: No time for planned pancakes. I throw yogurt and granola into a bowl, hand it to Matt, and dash to the shower.
• 9:30: Molly and Amy arrive; Simon is still groggy and slightly crabby. I’m dressed but dripping.
• 9:50: Christopher arrives and seems a bit crabby and clingy himself.
• 10:00: Christopher begins to cry.
• 10:15: I meet with Fairleigh (front yard landscaper) to discuss plans while trying to console Christopher and participate in Simon’s First Steps session at the same time.
• 10:30: Amy updates me on Simon’s progress, gives me written instructions for the next three weeks, and tries to schedule our next session while I rock an increasingly inconsolable Christopher in my lap.
• 10:35: I see Amy out the door and answer a quick question from Walter (the deck guy) as I load Christopher in the stroller to take him back to Shannon’s shop.
• 10:35-11:35: Walk to Mama’s Hip and back, stop to discuss Christopher’s hard morning with Shannon and assure her that these difficult stages are universal and normal.
• 11:35-2:15: Log in to work. Complete single task that was supposed to take 20 minutes.
• 2:15-3:00: No sign of neighbor Lynn, so first round of weed-killer administered using my new sprayer. I learn two valuable lessons at this point. First, add the Roundup to the water-not the other way around! Second, be very careful when you go to empty the pressure sprayer, lest you spray Roundup all over your legs and face. Yuck!
• 3:00-3:10: See Molly off, hang on to cranky Simon, and check to make sure I have the Poison Control number just in case.
• 3:10-4:00: Pay Fairleigh for work, keep Simon from running into the street or poison ivy patch, eavesdrop on Greg (the architect and landscaper) who is explaining to Walter that my deck is now seven inches lower than it’s supposed to be. Uh Oh! Run into Lynn and reschedule our work.
• 4:00-5:30 Escape with Simon to park to play and then to Heine Brothers for some decaf and a Kizito cookie.
• 5:45 to 8:00: Sit looking shell-shocked as Matt makes dinner and plays with Simon before bedtime. Clean kitchen from earlier milk spill. Put in load of diapers. Talk to assistant about author emergency. Talk to author about author emergency. Pour restorative glass of wine.
• 8:00 and beyond. Attend to new bug-bites, collapse on couch, watch “Entourage”, begin new book.

The rest of my planned filing/weeding/household organization? I decided it could wait until Thursday. Simon spends Thursdays at Jim and Evie’s for about six hours, giving me time to work for five hours, work around the house for three hours, and run a few errands. With logic like this, what could possibly go wrong?

On the plus side, he spends much of his day standing, he walks with us, a push-toy, or the furniture often, he squats and bends down all the time, and he’s been a stair climbing machine. On the minus side, he still butt scoots and crawls a lot, he doesn’t stand unsupported or get himself to standing alone, we’ve struggled to get him to walk holding onto a common object, and he’s only let go to walk solo three or four times.

The first time he took some steps alone was was last Thursday. He and Amy were walking together, each holding on to a “hand” of Baby Bunny. Simon got so excited about his errand that he let go of Baby Bunny and went for it. Alas, he pitched forward and fell down, thus putting a strain on his previously perfect relationship with Baby Bunny.

Then Sunday night, he went to cruise from the ottoman to the couch. He was holding on to Dirty Dog at the time and I was reaching for Dirty Dog to provide a common object. Only I did not yet have a hold on Dirty Dog when Simon took three little steps to me. Since he wasn’t bent over or trying to run, he wasn’t leaning forward and he didn’t pitch forward; he walked just fine…for three steps. As he had no idea what amazing feat he had just accomplished, he was not even a little emboldened to try this new trick some more. He’s taken similar steps at least twice since: once for Matt and once for Amy. But he’s not wild about it, and once he realizes what’s going on, he sits himself right down.

I suppose I had to expect progress to come in, to use a cliche, baby steps, but man oh man oh man, these baby steps are  leaving me impatient and hungry for more.

Today’s assessment concluded with the message that Simon can walk on his own, he’s just too insecure and fearful (or stubborn) to do so.

Our appointment today coincides with Simon’s 19-month birthday, an occasion we are going to mark with the gifts of a step-stool, a large ball, window forms, perhaps an easel, and certainly a meaty dose of frustration to be meted out daily.

Amy’s message to me was clear: So long as Simon can do all he wants by scooting around on his butt, he’s unlikely to let go and walk. That means we need to have fewer floor toys, more standing toys, and much more walking as part of our daily routine. I don’t have to frustrate him 24 hours a day; in fact, that might backfire, but I do have to choose regular times to frustrate him and encourage walking.

It looks like my weekend has been planned. I need two step-stools to put in front of our sinks, so Simon can begin to walk and stand to have his hands and face cleaned after meals and to brush his teeth at night. Window forms, a ball, and an easel will give us more to do standing up in our living room and the nursery, and if it ever stops raining, we’ll resume our daily trips to the park and regular play at the water table.

Meanwhile, floor toys need to be confiscated and/or set at a higher level. And during designated times of the day, if Simon won’t stand, walk, or cruise to get something he wants, I can’t allow him to have it. I don’t have to let him throw a fit; I just have to take him into a different room to play with something else so he doesn’t learn to manipulate me by fussing.

The good news is/was that we are doing many things right after since our appointment with Beth two weeks ago. Having Simon walk behind push toys has paid off, encouraging him to play on the stairs is paying off, and we’re doing a good job of praising him to the hilt for every step he takes and not making a big deal of the inevitable falls that come his way. Now it’s simply time to step up our game.

Amusingly, when I got a full look at Simon’s assessment data I learned that he is firmly ahead of the average in one and only one arena: social development. I don’t have the report yet, but Amy decided to look this up when Simon put the moves on her and then had his baby bunny stuffed animal kiss the frog stuffed animal we call Super Speedy as a diversionary tactic. Amy smiled knowingly when she saw this data and warned me not to let Simon charm me into backing off the walking exercises.

… And Simon has qualified for physical therapy in the First Steps program. He had his assessment today, and I learned much about him from the fabulous therapist, Beth, who came to our house.

In some areas, I learned what I already knew. He’s on track linguistically, he’s very social, and his cognition is fine overall. He is, of course, quite late in his gross motor skills, operating where an average child of 9-11 months would.

Then there were two huge surprises. The first is that Simon’s gross motor delay is affecting his fine motor skills, which used to be ahead but are no longer. Simon can’t scribble the way he’d like to, and he struggles with squares in the shape sorter and sitting up posts in pegboard, all because his underdeveloped upper body isn’t providing the strength or agility he needs to rotate and balance objects.

The next big surprise was that Simon’s delayed locomotion has had an effect on his cognition. When Beth put a wash cloth on top of a ring, Simon knew to lift the cloth to get the ring. When she put a wash cloth on top of a ring and laid down a second cloth beside it, he knew which cloth to lift up to get the ring. But when she laid down the ring, covered it with a cloth and put a second cloth down beside it, and then reversed their positions, Simon consistently reached for the wrong cloth. Beth explained to me that this level of understanding only develops when a baby has been mobile for a certain amount of time-longer than Simon has been mobile.

Beth pin-pointed several reasons for Simon’s delay:

1. His reflux prevented us from giving him adequate tummy time, and the Back to Sleep campaign prevented him from getting comfortable in that position at times the reflux was better.
2. His body shape is working against him. Simon is rather tall, which raises his center of gravity. He is lean, which also makes him less grounded. He had an ill-timed growth spurt just as he was getting mobile. And he has a large head, which throws off his balance completely. You could call these combined features a biomechanical storm of delay.
3. Genetics are working against him. I was a butt-scooter and a late walker. Matt was always a bit uncoordinated (yes, more than me). Since butt-scooting delays bilaterial coordination and he wasn’t destined to be super-coordinated to begin with, he got hit from both sides.

Wrap all these together, and it’s really no wonder that he is delayed. So what do do? I will learn more when I have my IFSP meeting next week and therapy begins. (Thanks for the explanation, Beth! You were right.) Until then, I’ve been given a few tips:

1. Move objects further apart so he has to get more adventurous in his cruising.
2. Have him hold on to a stuffed animal or towel that I hold instead of my hands, so he’ll have to power himself more.
3. Weigh down the push-toy he has so it moves slower on the hard-wood. The more he uses this toy, the better, as it encourages confidence and independence in walking.
4. When Simon walks holding on to my hands, I should kneel down so his hands are at chest or waist height-not over his head.
5. We should put him in wheelbarrow position regularly; when he’s strong enough he can then “walk” on his hands and develop better muscle tone.

At times like this, it’s hard not to engage in a bit of Monday morning quarterbacking. Should I have been firmer about tummy time? Should we have intervened earlier? Was I too cavalier or nonchalant about Simon’s delay? Beth mentioned that she would have liked to have tried Simon on a wedge for tummy time (she says bolsters do little good if any), and that she would not have been happy with his level of cruising (nearly non-existent) at fifteen months.

On the other hand, he’s happy, he’s social, he’s smart enough for now, he’s eager to develop, and Beth doesn’t think it will take long to catch him up. I hope she’s right. Simon’s preschool begins mid-August, giving us exactly three and a half months to get him where he needs to be.

Let’s roll!

Wednesday was the big intake interview with First Steps, Kentucky’s early intervention systems for children under three who need help to develop properly and be ready for school.

I self-referred based on my pediatrican’s advice and because Simon is now 18 months old and can’t walk on his own. Much of the interview was pretty straightforward, but there were a few surprises along the way.

First, our intake coordinator was extremely careful in her language. As Matt and I do not have the same last name, she referred to him simply as “Simon’s father” throughout the first half of our interview. In fact, for quite some time she didn’t realize he lived in the house with us. I didn’t realize this until she asked, “Does Simon’s father live here, too?” Once I understood what was going on, I casually dropped in the words “husband” and “mother-in-law” wherever possible to tip her off. I suspect this will be the first of many times our differing last names raise questions about our family’s status, but I suspect few will be as neutral and professional as this woman was.

Second, I was surprised to find myself at a loss for words a few times. When it came to describing Simon’s daily activities and all his abilities, I was my usual voluble self. But then Sheila (the coordinator) would throw a curve ball my way:

Q: “What daily activities does Simon’s delay prevent you from doing?”

A: “Um…. Well, none really. I just have to carry, push or help him walk everywhere. It’s just harder I suppose.”

Q: “What are your goals for Simon in the next six months?

A: “Um… walking?” Seriously, I haven’t thought six months ahead. I eventually, lamely, came up with “Walking, running, a little climbing, and whatever your physical therapists deem appropriate for a two-year-old.”

Q: “What activities does Simon not enjoy?”

A. “Um…We don’t really do things he doesn’t enjoy. Diaper changes maybe? Getting his face cleaned? Going down the slide if he’s not in the mood? Sitting in the stroller if he’d rather play?” It’s not like I’m forcing to take piano lessons, he hates math class, or he argues with me about cleaning up his room. I was grasping at straws here.

Last but not least, I was surprised by the complexity of the program. I knew there was a call, then an intake appointment, and then an assessment. But I thought once those three hoops were jumped through, they sent in the experts. Not so fast. You have the call. Then the intake appointment. Then the assessment. Then I’m referred to a primary service coordinator (today I met with an initial service coordinator). Then I attend an IFSP meeting with my entire IFSP team (I somehow missed what the acronym stands for) to review Simon’s proposed course of treatment. Then there’s an opportunity for me to accept, reject, or change this plan, possibly by working with a parent consultant. And then actual therapy begins.

Start to finish, from first phone call to first appointment with a therapist, I’m looking at 45 days.

It will surely be interesting to see where Simon is by this point.