I spend a lot of time worrying about things John can’t do yet. Last year it was swimming. Now he’s doing a great job in the pool, so instead I’m worrying about bike riding.

Partly I worry because I don’t want him to feel sad or embarrassed if he gets there later than his friends. I don’t want him to be left out. I don’t want him to miss out on fun things to do. And if I’m honest, partly I worry because if he’s left out it makes me feel like a worse mom.

Please don’t reassure me. I know that every kid does things at his or her own pace. I know they all have their strengths. Yadda yadda yadda. I know. Worrying is just a thing I do.

So I’ve been very excited that John is suddenly into his scooter this week! He’s had it for a year or two but this is the first time he’s shown any interest in it at all. And because he now wants to scoot, he’s scooting! He scooted to camp this morning. I’m so proud! Possibly inordinately proud. I love to see his delight in tackling something new. My feeling for his achievement, no matter how small, is pure joy.

Or almost pure joy.

Because here’s the thing. Scooting takes two hands. So for one of the first times ever, John and I didn’t hold hands on the way down the street today. He just waited for me at the corners. Of course he’s at an age when that’s the absolutely right thing for him to do. And I’m happy and proud to see him roll ahead. But, you know what? Despite all my worrying that he’ll get left behind, I also really hate to let him go.