As much as I love taking Ben bowling, I cringe every time he throws a fit after his ball knocks over too few pins. He knows it takes practice, he knows he's getting better, and yet, he struggles to maintain self-control. A beautiful thing happened though amidst the frustration. Ben started observing the family in the next lane. He observed a very young child, a toddler really, drop the ball down the ramp and knock down most of the pins. Ben celebrated the boy's achievement! He said, "that boy, really a toddler, is going to be an amazing bowler when he grows up." I told Ben he looked super happy complimenting the other boy and I asked him, "isn't that a good feeling?" He smiled and said, "Yes!" so he learned that even if he wasn't enjoying his own game, he could watch other bowlers and celebrate their successes.
We went to the library next, a new branch we'd never visited before, and he was thrilled to see video games he could borrow right near the entrance. We checked a couple out then headed home and to another library, the main branch which is the one we normally visit. I applied online to teach adjunct at a nearby university (why not?) and Ben played his video game he'd just borrowed from the other library on his nintendo switch light. We stayed at the computers for well over an hour, and it was peaceful. I looked over the library website more carefully than I had before and noticed the form to request free museum tickets from the library. (Who knew!?) I have really enjoyed this summer with Ben. I'm not sure if I really stopped to appreciate "quality time" like this before.
One of the things Glennon Doyle writes about in "Carry On, Warrior" that I have absolutely loved reading is her take on time. She writes that there are two different types of time, chronos and kairos. Chronos is what we generally recognize as measured time, but then kairos time is a moment in time that you cherish. It's like that saying, life is not how many breaths you take but the moments that take your breath away. Kairos time is the moments that take your breath away. They're the moments that make life worth living and celebrating. She also wrote a whole chapter on laundry that had me laughing hysterically, because I actually had done the exact same thing - I won't spoil it for you with the anecdote, but her story is nearly identical to mine. My sister had a name for it: "Crossified" laundry. Perhaps you can figure out what that means without reading the "Airing Our Dirty Laundry" chapter in "Carry On, Warrior"
Comments
Post a Comment