There are times when I feel like I’m letting my kiddo down when it comes to the act of play.
It’s not that I’m not playful. It’s just that we have different interests or different energy levels depending on the timing.
Some of his favorite things to do:
- Matchbox/Hot Wheels
- Baseball cards (or Pokemon)
- Nerf battles
- Water balloons
- “You be xxx and I’ll be yyy.” (Pretend play, essentially)
- Using his magnifying glass to burn random objects
- “Sit on me!” (He gets on the bed and I pile pillows on top of him and do as he commands)
There are many more, of course. He’s a kid. An energetic and enthusiastic kid.
And it’s not like this list is filled with horrible activities. (Well, I’m not a big fan of pretend play and I HATE Monopoly.) It’s just that, as I mentioned before, I’m not always filled with energy. How he can spend all day at camp, running around like crazy, and come home in the evening still charged with energy amazes me. I sit on my butt at work, do the dishes and feed the pets and I’m wiped out. Or I just want to cozy up in a chair with a book. My own book.
I had one of those tired moments when I got home this weekend. I spent a few days visiting my mom. Not exhausting at all, really. But I drove home, unpacked my stuff and just felt like doing nothing. And here comes my adorable child with a sheet of printed cardboard and a request: “Mom, can you cut out the pieces so I can build my CubeeCraft?”
Did I mention that all of the pieces had little tabs that had to be cut just so?
It seemed like an enormous task. My face fell slightly and he quickly said, “Nevermind.” Aw, now…really? I’d obviously disappointed him in the past with that same reaction for him to give up that easily. And the sight of his resigned little face gave me a burst of guilt-induced energy. And I grabbed the scissors. And now we have a square-headed stormtrooper.