Board Legs Unlocked… at Age Two

 Hey lovelies, welcome back to another little slice of chaos from my world 🌸🧶

If you’ve been here a while, you know my life is a mash-up of crochet, kids, ADHD brain dumps, and emotional metaphors that sneak in like uninvited guests at a party. Today’s story isn’t about yarn (for once) — it’s about Rosie, sunshine, and a paddleboard. And honestly, it’s one of those memories I’ll carry forever.

So apparently my daughter has decided she’s a paddleboarding prodigy. Rosie is two years old — TWO — and today she just casually stood up on a paddleboard like she’s been training her whole life. Meanwhile, I’m still tripping over my own feet on dry land and she’s out here unlocking “board legs” like it’s a video game achievement. 🏆✨

I was stood on the riverbank ready to dive in fully clothed (because let’s face it, I would) convinced she’d topple straight in. But nope. She planted those tiny toes, wobbled for a second, and then stood there steady as anything. Smug. Unbothered. Like the board should be grateful she even bothered to stand on it. Honestly, the paddleboard looked more nervous than she did.

And poor Dave — bless him — thought he was taking his daughter for a gentle paddle. Instead, he got downgraded to background extra in Rosie’s main character debut. He paddled, she posed. He concentrated, she grinned like she was born for it. Then she gave him that look, the one that says: “thanks Dad, but I’ve got this.” Savage already. That’s my girl.

Here’s the thing though: Rosie makes me see the world differently.

I look at the water and think: “danger, cold, soggy trousers, probably swans coming to attack.” Rosie looks at it and thinks: “stage, spotlight, let me show these fish who’s boss.” 🐟😂 I see balance as something terrifying — like one wrong move and it all comes crashing down. She sees balance as a game, a dare, a chance to show off. I carry the weight of my alphabet soup of diagnoses (ADHD, CPTSD, PMDD, IBS, fibro — basically if there’s an acronym, I’ve probably got it). She carries… a juice box. And somehow, she makes it look like she’s cracked the code.

And the thing is, kids don’t overcomplicate it. They don’t overthink, spiral, or catastrophise every possible outcome the way my brain does at 3am. Rosie didn’t stand there worrying about falling in or whether the board would hold her weight. She just… stood. Like it was the obvious thing to do. That’s the bit that gets me.

Because my ADHD brain is always screaming “life metaphor incoming!” and today was no different. Watching Rosie stand there, tiny but fierce, made me realise: maybe balance isn’t about waiting for the wobble to stop. Maybe it’s about standing up anyway and letting the wobble do its thing. Maybe life is less about being steady, and more about learning to laugh when the river splashes you.

Kids are funny like that — they’ll casually teach you lessons you’ve been trying to learn for 30-odd years, and they’ll do it without even knowing. Rosie is two. She doesn’t know she’s showing me that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be steady. She doesn’t know she’s teaching me that sometimes the water is just water, not a monster waiting to swallow you whole. She’s just… being herself. And it’s pure magic to watch.

And it makes me think about how much of life I’ve spent bracing myself — holding on for dear life, waiting for calm that never really comes. Rosie doesn’t wait. She jumps straight in, grins, and shows me that maybe the trick is to find joy in the wobble instead of trying to control it.

So yeah. Today, my two-year-old unlocked her board legs. And me? I’m still working on mine. But through her little chaos-coloured glasses, I’m starting to see that wobbling isn’t failing. It’s just part of the ride.

Thanks for stopping by and sharing this memory with me. If you’ve got little ones, or if you just need the reminder today: don’t wait for the water to calm before you stand up. Wobble anyway. 💕

Until next time,

Zoe x