My son is practically an angel, from what I know about 6-year old boys. He likes to draw, do art projects, and play the guitar. He has no interest in superheroes, martial arts, or baseball. He has won eight awards for good behavior in as many weeks of school.
He is a chronic sign-maker who makes labels for everything in the house. Give him a stack of printer paper and a pen and he’ll produce signs until the well runs dry. He is allowed to tape them to specific walls in the house.
“JULIAN’S STUFF FROM STEP ONE” reads the sign next to his preschool artwork. “SCARLETT’S STUFF FOR JULIAN” is the heading above a column of artwork his sister has dedicated to him. “EVRYONE STUFF” says a sign taped to my living room wall. Apparently I am supposed to be taping my own artwork there.
If you’ve guessed that I can mill about the house, doing my own thing while he draws at the dining table, you’d be making the same mistake that I continue to make.
Yesterday I pulled out a box of Halloween paraphernalia for both of my kids to explore. Julian set to work, using transparent tape to plaster my house with pumpkin cutouts. He helped himself to a Tupperware container that he placed on a stool, filled it with small trinkets like plastic spiders.
Since my busy little independent beaver seemed content, I turned my focus to our 3-year old, helping her open packages of Halloween stickers that went unused last year.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Julian was holding paper up to the wall and writing on it. WITH A SHARPIE.
“TAKE ONE” read the invitation, with an arrow pointing down to the container of spiders.
Please God, let that be a stack of paper he is writing on and not a single sheet.
No such luck.
The bleed-through of the marker was minimal, but my lesson is learned: quiet independent play can be the most dangerous kind.
By guest blogger Whitney Moss from Rookiemoms.com
