The Rabbit's shyness has morphed from cute when she was 2, to sightly irritating now that she's nearly 5. It can be very frustrating when she won't say good morning to friends, parents, even her teachers — and I have to bite my tongue to stop from pushing her. I remember too well feeling so shy as a child I didn't want to raise my hand in class to call attention to myself. Maybe I slipped some of that genetic code to her. And maybe it will take her 30+ years to learn that the world is not actually populated by wolves trying to trip you up. (Okay, 99% of the world.)
So this morning's Op-Ed in The New York Times on shyness in children and the urge to medicate it was fascinating to me. I never have once even considered having The Rabbit medicated — nor even thought what she was experiencing was anything other than, well, shyness, and therefore not even necessary to bring up with her doctor.
While there are children with serious illness who do need to be medicated, I worry about how much of our children's unique (if not occasionally frustrating) personalities are being "smoothed" away. Yes, I'd love if she'd bounce like Tigger to her friends in the morning and smile and chirp and lovely "Good Morning!" But then, she would be Rabbit.
So this morning's Op-Ed in The New York Times on shyness in children and the urge to medicate it was fascinating to me. I never have once even considered having The Rabbit medicated — nor even thought what she was experiencing was anything other than, well, shyness, and therefore not even necessary to bring up with her doctor.
While there are children with serious illness who do need to be medicated, I worry about how much of our children's unique (if not occasionally frustrating) personalities are being "smoothed" away. Yes, I'd love if she'd bounce like Tigger to her friends in the morning and smile and chirp and lovely "Good Morning!" But then, she would be Rabbit.
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