If I’m moving, I’m moving fast. Fast, fast, fast. I talk fast, walk fast, think fast. Before my feet hit where I’m going, my mind has already been there and is movin’ on to my next destination. Fast, fast, fast.

So when I was blessed with a little boy to have in tow every day, it just seems fitting that the universe decided to give me not a fast mover and shaker like myself. Nope, my main man moves a little slower. Try Poky Little Puppy slow.

While he reserves this tortoise like speed for our walks to the car in a parking lot, down the long hallways to his preschool class, and his usual morning routines, he isn’t always slow. He feels the need for speed when it serves him best: beating his sister down the stairs to get his little hands on the iPad first, if I offer up a dessert (super-fast if it’s ice cream), or if I’m yelling STOP as he runs into the ocean or a pool. He already has that selective hearing thing down.

His snail’s pace wasn’t noticeable until his sister came along and he lost my hip as his major mode of transportation. When he moved up to the big brother role, he had to hoof it next to me and I’ve been slowed down ever since.

If you see me moving towards you at lightning speed, take a look a few yards behind me, that’s where you find my boy. Just strolling along, no sense of urgency, taking it all in.

Daily I plead with him to pick up the pace; however, my pleas fall upon those little ears with selective hearing. When I’m on the move, he’s behind me hop, hop, hopping on just the blue floor tiles at school because the white are full of “hot lava.”  If I’m darting down the mall, he will be dragging his feet and trailing his hands down the wall making sure to touch every crack and crevice.

“Buddy, come on! Hurry up! You are killing Mommy!”

“But Mommy, I’m just a little boy and my legs don’t move that fast.”

“Look alive, pal. LOOK ALIVE!”

“Mommy, I am ALIVE. Wanna play I spy?”

If there is one thing I’ve learned as a mother (besides my amazing abilities to pass back juice and Goldfish crackers to my backseat passengers while never taking my eyes off the road and that no one tells you that your feet get bigger with each pregnancy), if you can’t beat them, join them. So goodbye fast, fast,fast days. You can find me strolling alongside my guy, playing I Spy, and checking out the view from his perspective.

Now someone tell me what we do about this selective hearing.