This morning, we were late for nursery.
And of course I had somewhere to be immediately afterwards.
In other words, exactly the sort of morning when every minute matters and you mostly want your child to hurry.
Gabriel chose his scooter. Good news: normally, that is our fast form of transport.
Except that this morning, his scooter had apparently changed jobs.
It had become an ice cream machine.
Every couple of metres, Gabriel stopped.
He made an imaginary ice cream at the back of the scooter, ate a little, handed one to me, then set off again.
Two metres later: another stop.
Another ice cream.
Another tasting session.
At that pace, I think we would have reached nursery the following week.
When a child dawdles and you need to leave
I could already feel the frustration building.
I could have repeated:
Probably several times.
And probably louder each time.
Instead, I tried something else.
I looked at him and said:
I did not even wait for an answer.
I started running.
Of course, he immediately accepted the challenge.
He shot off after me on his scooter.
Less than two minutes later, we were ringing the nursery doorbell.
The final ice cream
While we waited for someone to let us in, Gabriel turned back to his scooter.
He made one last imaginary ice cream.
One for him.
One for me.
After all, the ice cream shop may have closed for the race…
but only temporarily.
That morning reminded me of something simple: when a child is completely absorbed in play, trying to drag them out of it is not always the fastest route.
Sometimes it is quicker to step into their world for a few seconds and turn the game in the direction we need to go.
I did not need him to stop playing.
I just needed the game to take us to nursery.
