We’ve got a new puppy. Taking her for a walk is like taking a toddler out, she stops ALL THE TIME. She does it because everything is new and interesting, just like it is for children. They stop because they need to take the time to examine, inspect and learn about the new thing. Cleverer people than me say this is why time moves slower as a child and faster as an adult. As an adult, we’ve experienced so much more, we’ve learned that, while pebbles can be cool, they aren’t worth taking the time to study each and everyone you come across.

They want to take a little longer, we want to move on. My kids are now 10 and 12, and they still take ages to do things, because they get distracted, because the tennis ball they have in their hand still holds lots of potential for fun. And while I find bouncing and catching a ball a bit of fun, I’ve learned the cost of getting distracted and don’t think the amount of fun is worth that cost. They haven’t learned that yet, and they won’t learn it the first, second or third time, it will take years. But we forget that.

This morning, I counted how many times I asked my son to brush his teeth. Six times. Now that’s not a lot for a four year old, but for a ten year old, my expectations are higher. The problem though wasn’t really the number, it was the time in between each request. I barely left 20 seconds. It’s called nagging and I was doing it.

I was frustrated because of the mismatch between my focus (getting out for school on time) and his (enjoying himself). And the mismatch between how time passes faster for me than it does for my son. The mismatch is the cause of the frustration, not my son.

The puppy training class I go to taught me a killer lesson for coping with this. Count to five. Count to five when they stop to sniff a tree, or examine a leaf. It’s a reminder of a little practice I used to do but have slipped on. I used to hold my tongue for 20 seconds when I felt the urge to repeat my request. It worked, my kids did get on with what I’d asked them to do, it just took them a little longer than it would me.

I used to do it, but this morning I realised I’d slipped out of the habit. If I’d have done that this morning, I wouldn’t have been a naggy dad. Lesson relearned.