We’re two weeks in to the school year already and Ben is firmly entrenched as a 5th grader. On the first day of school I took my traditional day off, and enjoyed my customary journaling time at Starbucks after we walked Ben to school. I look forward to those dates with myself and enjoy looking back on previous years’ entries. It’s a great opportunity to reflect – kind of a state of the family review. And as often happens when I’m journaling, this year I learned something.
Ever since Ben was old enough to hold a glue stick, I’ve been a project kind of mom. I enjoy them as much (okay, and sometimes more than) he does. The issues of Family Fun show up in the mailbox and I roll up my sleeves ready to build, plant, cut, fold, paint, etc. And if it’s not a creative endeavor, then it might be a learning project like a kitchen science experiment. In fact, I’ve got a whole 3-ring binder full of ideas just waiting for the right moment for Ben and I to have a chance to work on one together.
These moments are precious few in the course of our normal schedules, but during the last few weeks before school started, we had some free time here and there. I flagged pages in the binder and offered Ben his choice of activity for us to do together. But he didn’t ever really want to spend our time in this way. He wanted to show me something, talk to me about something, teach me something (often on the computer). He wanted to expose me to something he’s passionate about, to get me interested in something he’s been doing on his own.
And at first I resisted. Totally not getting it. Wanting to hurry through the video game illustration or fast forward through the Lego demonstration. Because we had Things To Do.
But those things were on my list – not on Ben’s. He really didn’t care about building a village out of popsicle sticks. All he wanted is for me to come alongside him and take part in his life. And thankfully, I realized that while I was journaling the other day at Starbucks. This is such a crucial stage in our relationship. We’re laying the groundwork for how we’ll relate when he’s a teenager – when I’ll be hoping, asking, praying that he’ll want to share what’s going on in his life. Because today, it might be Legos, but tomorrow it might be the girl who sits next to him in his World Geography class.
I did this for a gift box recently and shredded a few bits of leftover wrapping paper to put in the top layer of the shreds to dress it up.
