I’m an expert at crafting excuses to avoid projects of which I’m fearful.
Writing or painting. Putting in a new faucet. (I do hate plumbing.)
My inner procrastinator has infinite reasons for which I have few
decent comebacks.
And Finn… is an enabler.
When he insists on playing a game it’s all the reason I need.
Many of our ‘games’ were originally created while trying to get him from
point A to point B.
One of his favorites is ‘Finn in a blanket’, created when he didn’t want
me putting the blankets away after a day of ’cave’ construction.
In an act of civil disobedience he laid in the middle of the blanket
I was trying to fold.
I rolled up the blanket pretending not to notice him, then went to put it
away.
“Boy this blanket is heavy,” I said.
“I’m in here!” he laughed.
“Oh!” I said and rolled him out onto the couch.
Fun to do once or twice.
After twenty times I start to think about rotator cuff surgery.
“Again!” he says each and every time.
The other day when my arms were withering and we’d had ten
“last times”, I explained to him why we couldn’t keep doing it
forever.
“You’re a little heavier now and lifting you over and over and over
makes my arms tired after awhile. I like to keep playing, but I don’t
want to drop you. You’re getting to be a big boy and it’s not easy to
pick you up a million times. Do you understand?”
After a long dead stare he said,
“Don’t bother me with details.”
I didn’t even ask him where he heard it. We just played a few more times.
One of my brothers who has older kids once said,
“Wait till he starts telling you how to live your life.”
I think he already is.