This morning I realized it had become a little too quiet and went to find John. He had secreted himself in the grandparents' office (we're visiting in Atlanta--great photos to be posted later) and was touching the computer. Before I could remind him that he's not supposed to touch the computer, he said, "Mama, I'm working."
My own words coming back to bite me.
When I'm using my computer and wishing John would play by himself, I say, "John, I need to work on the computer. I need you to play by yourself so I can work." Doesn't that sound important? Sometimes I am working--filing receipts in Mvelopes, researching something for the house--and sometimes I'm "just" writing email or doing blog posts (but, as an aside, aren't those activities similar to the respected work wives used to do as the writers of family correspondence, creating and maintaining the family ties and a social network from which the whole family benefited?).
John telling me that he was working was at first cute, but it occurs to me--not for the first time--that it might not be so beneficial to call everything the child does "playing." He is learning everything about his world and is trying to imitate what the parents do. If he grabs a broom and swishes it around, that's not playing with a broom, that is a two-year-old's attempt to sweep, to work. "Play" implies uselessness, activity purely for pleasure. By constantly labeling my son's activities "play," I think I'm giving him the general impression that play is all a child is capable of doing, that he couldn't possibly be capable of work, which requires the competency of adulthood. Talk about something coming back to bite me! That's a concept I do not want to instill.
So, when John told me he was working on the computer, I paused for a second, had my epiphany, and replied, "That's great. What project are you working on? Well, it's time for us to eat breakfast, so you can work more later. Let's go downstairs."
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