Last week at back to school night, one of Sebastian’s teachers said, “He’s a compliant student.” I laughed because in this respect he most definitely takes after me.

    I’m the one on a deserted road at midnight who comes to a complete stop at the stop sign and who feels guilty if I cross the street against the light. I like blaming my Catholic school upbringing for the need to be hyper-compliant, but the truth is I have been a perfectionist for as long as I can remember. My earliest memories of kindergarten include a pretend wooden fruit stand and a coloring assignment. After completing the homework sheet, I realized I had done it all wrong. After some amount of hysterics, my mother used a butter knife to scrap off the crayon so I could fix it.

    It took years to calm my perfectionist ways. I will say the compliance trait does come in very handy in my special needs parenting life, especially when it comes to Benjamin’s medical needs and anything related to his government benefits. But sometimes being compliant in an imperfect world is frustrating.