My name is Paige, and I'm a slacker parent

We went up to Tahoe this weekend with one of Shawn Joaquin's favorite people, Amalie, and her mothers. I was really looking forward to the weekend, since this family is only one of a handful that we could not only see spending three full days with but could actually look forward to seeing for three full days. We have similar parenting styles, including the belief (unlike my sister) that Coke in sippy cup with a Cheeto chaser is no way to calm a child.

On our first night, the kids played a game which involved jumping on shapes, colors and printed pictures as an electronic MC called them out. As Amalie jumped and twirled on cue to each call, Shawn Joaquin giggled, fell down, and in his own way professed his complete lack of knowledge or interest in colors or shapes beyond two or three of the basics, which were still quite often interchangeable. ("That thing is blue like mud.") I chalked this up to Amalie being a girl and thus naturally more advanced.

Later that night, the kids watched "The Letter Factory", from which Amalie had already learned all of her alphabet sounds and recognized every letter. As we watched, her mother handed her illustrated cards with the letters that corresponded to the letter on the screen. This was no hyper mom pushing her child with flashcards, but a loving and involved mom serving her daughter's true desire to learn all of her letters and start reading War and Peace and perhaps writing her own Great American Novel before the age of five. My son sat watching with his mouth agape, occasionally deeply probing his ear with his index finger. And I, not having flashcards, focused instead on How I Am Failing My Child and Other Things That Will Mess Him Up, Mess Him Up But Good.

The next three days were filled with moments just like that, as I questioned the hours I spend at work instead of on the floor with him, the time I spend watching Law and Order instead of thinking of the next great thing to interest him and pique his love of learning. How we spend our time running errands or watching Rachel Ray after dinner because I can't read the Penguin and the Pea for the 12th time since sunset. And then it hit me - I am a slacker parent. Shawn Joaquin's lack of interest or knowledge of shapes and color and letters isn't a gender thing - it just may be ME.

On the drive home, after Shawn Joaquin had viewed "The Letter Factory" multiple times over the weekend, I decided to change my Slacker, Slacker Ways.

"Shawn Joaquin, what sound does the letter 'A' make?"

"Mama, this is my ANGRY face."

"I see that. Now, what sound does the letter 'A' make?"

"NO TALKING. No talking about LETTERS. Mama SHOULD NOT TALK. DADDY SHOULD NOT TALK. WEEEEEEE SHOULD NOT TALK."

"Shawn Joaquin —"

"— I AM ONLY GOING TO TALK ABOUT THE THING THAT IS RED LIKE A FIRE ENGINE."

With that, he silently put his blanket over his head, sat back in his car seat, and proceeded to play with the thing that is red and IS a fire engine in the quiet dark of his private, blanketed world.

And I learned that while my son does not care to discuss what sound the letter "A" makes, he has the will and the wisdom to ride for 45 minutes with his head under his blanket to avoid Mama's latest spasm of guilt over parenting. And to quote Martha Stewart, that's a good thing.