Susan GrahamWhat's Mine Is His
November 5th 2009 15:57
Home Office
I snagged my pen and paper (it's less obvious to my son that I'm working if I use paper instead of my computer) grabbed a seat at my desk--the one three feet from my son--just so that he knew I was there with him
. No good. Apparently, I wasn't close enough. My lap was much better.
Now, here I am, sitting in a pretty big chair with my son. He's got a little butt (and since you don't know what my butt looks like--let's say it's little too). So, anyway, I figure, I can still do this. He can squish in right next to me and play with his plastic truck, and I will get, oh, so much work done.
But wait--apparently, my pen is far more interesting than his truck. Why? -because it's attached to MY hand. And, of course, "pens are for paper, not walls and furniture," so he knows he needs paper, too. Mine is sitting there right next to him. He's got the pen, why not go for the paper? And, by the way, I'm in his way. Apparently, he can't write with me sitting next to him. He tells me to go.
So now, I'm kicked out of my spot. My pen's gone. My paper's gone. My works gone, too. I now see he's done a great job scribbling right over the very few sentences I managed to squeak out before my stuff was confiscated.
I'd love to say I took advantage of his new busyness, grabbed my computer and snuck away to a very secure, private spot and got a good hours worth of work done. Yeah, right. Without my body attached to the pen, paper and chair, they were about as interesting as a stalk of brocolli on a kid's dinner plate.
Hey, that plastic truck looks a little lonely...since he's not playing with it right now...
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