- November 20, 2024
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As I was cleaning out my garage last Saturday, I discovered about 100 bottles of drinking water buried in two totes. At room temperature, these water bottles would have had no expiration date, but let’s just say my garage is closer to oven temperature than room temperature.
So, I decided to dispose of the water. It was sure to be a tedious task. Not how I wanted to spend my afternoon.
Fortunately, I had a helper.
My 6-year-old son, Luke, was apparently so bored with sitting on the couch that he joined me. We set up two chairs in the shade of the 12-foot magnolia tree in the backyard and started opening the bottles and dumping them into the grass, giving the thirsty tree a drink.
As I sat there with Luke, I thought about a home video I had recently watched, scenes from the backyard, just before Luke was born. The tree was only about 5 feet tall at the time. So much life has happened since then, and yet this tree has remained, year after year, its creamy white blossoms unfurling over its waxy green leaves.
The still, steadiness of the tree was in sharp contrast with Luke’s scurrying nature. And yet somehow, he was content to sit next to me, dump out dozens of water bottles, crush them one by one, and put the caps back on, filling a recycling tote with twisted balls of plastic.
“See?” I said. “This is more fun than video games, right?”
His response was half frown, half grin; he had been caught having fun while doing work.
I thought about a recent moment with Luke, when he tried to teach me a similar lesson. With time running out while he was supposed to be getting ready for school one day, I caught him riding a scooter around the kitchen instead. “Luke!” I said. “You’re supposed to be finding your backpack, not riding a scooter!” But he saw things differently: “I’m trying to find my backpack while having fun riding a scooter.”
With the bottles emptied and prepped for recycling, it was time to clean up. I grabbed the totes, and Luke helped yet again by carrying our folding chairs, but it was more than he had bargained for. I cheered him on, not realizing how much he was straining under the weight. When he saw me stopping in front of the garage, he said, hopefully, almost in tears: “Is this the destination?”
I have heard that voice saying that phrase in my mind many times in the days since, a reminder of how children often long to be helpful, to please, to have our attention.
