My entire family sees a chiropractor. Not the twisting and cracking kind. It’s actually quite gentle. It has made a difference in our quality of life. At first it was just me going. Then Meredith. Then eventually the kids who now enjoy the visits. They even like getting adjusted. The sticker or temporary tattoo at the end is always worth it.
Until recently.
Adeline has decided she’s not going to the chiropractor anymore. We asked her why.
“It takes up my time.”
Well, then.
How does a 7-year-old understand something I’ve just started toying with these past few years? Perhaps she’s overhead her mother and I riffing over a glass of wine. Perhaps she’s the Golden Child. It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad she gets it. If she can hold on to it, that understanding will help her protect and purpose her most fleeting resource. Her choices of how to spend her time will amount to her life.
I hope she chooses wisely.
But that’s her future. She’ll decide that. Her present is my current interest. And while I appreciate her tiny wisdom, she’s still going to the chiropractor.
