It’s hard not to look around and measure. At birthday parties, playgrounds, school drop-offs, even family gatherings, the comparisons sneak in quietly. Someone else’s child is talking sooner, reading earlier, sitting still longer, understanding faster. And without meaning to, you start asking yourself questions you never planned to ask. Is my child behind? Am I missing something? Should I be doing more?
That’s where the popcorn image lands so gently, and so truthfully.
Every kernel sits in the same pot. Same heat. Same oil. Same conditions. And yet, they don’t pop together. Some burst open almost immediately. Others take their time, quietly absorbing heat, changing on the inside long before anything shows on the outside. And a few wait until the very end, then pop so suddenly you wonder how they held on for so long.
Children are like that. Development isn’t a race, even though the world often treats it like one. Growth happens in layers, not timelines. What looks like “nothing happening” from the outside is often a lot happening underneath. Wiring is forming. Confidence is building. Safety is being felt. Curiosity is waking up.
When we compare, we assume that early popping means better popping. But that’s not how it works. Fast doesn’t equal strong. Early doesn’t mean lasting. Loud doesn’t mean right. Some children bloom early and plateau. Others move quietly and then surge forward when they’re ready, with depth and resilience that can’t be rushed.
It’s also worth remembering that the heat isn’t just school or milestones. It’s love, patience, encouragement, boundaries, mistakes, comfort, repetition. All of it matters. And you’re already providing far more of it than you probably give yourself credit for.
Comparison has a way of stealing joy from the present moment. It turns “look at what my child is discovering” into “why aren’t they doing that yet?” It shifts your focus from connection to concern. And kids feel that shift. They feel when they’re being watched with worry instead of wonder.
Trust doesn’t mean ignoring real needs or avoiding support when it’s required. It means understanding that different doesn’t automatically mean delayed, and slower doesn’t mean wrong. It means honoring the child you have, not the child you’ve been told to expect by a chart or a comment or a casual comparison.
Your child’s moment is coming. It may not look like someone else’s moment. It may surprise you. It may arrive quietly or all at once. But it will be theirs, shaped by who they are, not by how closely they matched someone else’s timeline.
So when the noise gets loud and the comparisons start creeping in, remember the pot. Same heat. Same care. Different timing. And that timing? It’s not a flaw. It’s part of the design.
Kenrick Vaz 