Robert Frost.
Of course parents have many choices to make every day, and when I look back on some of the ones I’ve made over a particular stretch, I hang my head. In exhaustion, in shame, in regret.
It was a chair. A stupid chair. And it was funny. Later, it was funny. Or I guess… it was funny then, but I didn’t acknowledge it until later.
I felt reasonable and justified in my reaction. I didn’t realize until later: you were such a jerk. So this is what happened: our nine-year old son is delaying doing his math by taking (literally) five minutes to clamber, climb, and crawl into his chair.
A chair. The chair he was sitting in to do his math on the computer. This is not an especially difficult chair to mount or find placement on. It’s wood. It has a high back and arms. It’s sturdy. And he was taking an extraordinary amount of time to ascend this chair by taking the most nonsensical, limb-stretching, body-contorting method possible.
I could have seen the ludicrous nature of this, dived in and made a great non-math lesson about having fun doing mundane things, and maybe jumped into ascending it in like manner.
But no. That is not the road I took. I took the one of chastising and berating him for wasting time. It’s easy to say “well, we all have those moments,” and that may be right. But I want to have as few of those as possible, and I want to do better.
This is a nine-year old human, which means his curiosity, energy, and desire to move are boundless.
I hold myself accountable for learning and improving; to model what it means to be resilient and flexible and to not lose track of the humor in ridiculous situations. Anyway. The road not taken. But that road will be upon me again soon, and ideally I will choose a different fork that time.
Other happenings.
…a three-year old up at 5am to do puzzles. It’s funny much later in the morning.
…the smug feeling I had at 4am as I changed a leaking 5-month on our bed in pitch blackness and I thought to myself: wow, I really am amazing at this, and then crawled under the urine-soaked covers for a wee bit more sleep, remembering first though to throw the loaded diaper across the dark room, away from where we were slumbering. I should probably find that.
…a 12-year girl leaping in to do chores and then saying “what else can I do to help?” A dream coming true.
…two kids reading old People magazines and arguing over Tom Hanks’ best movies and whether or not he looks good with a beard.
Covering a trifecta of content with good dialog:
A breakdown of the Greek hypnos (sleep) and accompanying etymology and mythological basis, which made a certain nine-year old very pleased.
Discussion of the phrase Ars longa, vita brevis (“Art lives forever, life is short”).
Review of animal cell structure and introduction to genes and chromosomes.
Conversation about classical/modernist composer Arnold Schoenberg and how you come to respect and appreciate what someone creates, even if you don’t especially enjoy it…or don’t yet.
—-
”This is one of my top five worst days ever.” - a nine-year old, probably largely having to do with Zearn math (see above)
…tossing bags of frozen vegetables to my daughter at Costco, standing fifteen feet away, and ignoring others looking on. The only reaction I care about is hers. And she grinned. It’s one of our things. Throwing frozen food back and forth at the grocery.
…last, singing along to Fernando and Super Trouper in the car. Abba is a very important band in our family. And I highly recommend them becoming an important one in yours as well.
May you be well, and may we all improve, even when we slip, and may we choose the best fork possible when we come to diverging paths. But regardless of what path you end up on…remember the importance of getting lost and going off-trail.
Au revoir.
