Vachon Imagined

My son often tells me he doesn’t like doing schoolwork with me because I discipline him.

When he begins to laugh, lose focus, or drift away from the task, if he doesn’t notice it himself, I gently point it out and ask him to come back.

Focus.

Pay attention.

Finish what you started.

This is accountability.

It is rarely comfortable.

My husband, on the other hand, is the fun parent. He encourages our son with, “You’ve got this,” reminding him of what he can do rather than where he has wandered. I encourage him too, but I also know there are moments when encouragement alone is not enough. Sometimes love asks us to lovingly interrupt distraction.

My son has made it clear that he doesn’t always enjoy working with me.

And I’m okay with that.

I’m okay with not always being his favorite.

Because my responsibility is not to make every moment enjoyable.

It is to help him grow.

Discipline is often misunderstood as punishment.

It is not.

True discipline is the ability to return to yourself.

To notice when your mind has wandered.

To recognize when you are making excuses.

To gently call yourself back.

Again.

And again.

One day the world will not remind my son to focus.

It will not pause because he is distracted.

It will not lower its expectations because something is difficult.

Life quietly asks each of us to become accountable—not for other people, but for ourselves.

That is the lesson I hope he carries with him.

Not perfection.

Not performance.

Self-accountability.

The ability to look honestly at himself without shame, to correct his course without blame, and to keep walking.

If I can teach him that, I will gladly accept the moments when he doesn’t prefer working with me.

Because one day, when life is difficult and no one is there to redirect him, I hope he will hear a familiar voice.

Not mine.

His own.

The one that quietly says,

Focus.

You know the way.

Keep going.