a true story about autonomy
"No! SELF!", The Morning Zipper War
Her hand knocks mine away from her own coat, and the bus is already coming down the street.
the realization
I finally heard what the slap actually meant. She wasn't fighting me, she wanted to do the zipper herself, so I stopped taking over and just held the bottom while she pulled.
We were so late. Shoes half on, my keys in my teeth, and Mia standing at the door with her coat open and this look on her face like the whole morning depended on that zipper. I reached in to do it fast, the way I do a hundred small things fast, and she slapped my hand clean off it. "No! SELF!"
have you ever felt this way too?
So I did the thing every rushed parent does. I grabbed it anyway. I got it halfway up before I even thought about it, and she went stiff and furious, and I stood there with my hand on a zipper that wasn't the problem.
It wasn't the clock either. So I let go and I said it out loud. "You want to do it all by yourself." And her little shoulders just dropped, like I'd finally said the right thing.
I didn't take over again. I pinched the very bottom so the two ends would catch, and I let her pull. It snagged. It took forever, tongue out, both fists working. And then it went up, all the way, and she looked at me like she'd built something. We were so late. It really didn't matter.
what I found myself saying
""You want to do it all by yourself.""
""Okay. Show me.""
""I'll just hold the bottom, you pull.""
