On Being Your Own Boss, Except When You're Not
March 25, 2010
Spring break arrived early this year, just to mess with me and my Productivity Skills and All The Very Important Bullshit That I Do. (New column up at The Stir, too. Word.) I've got over a week of All Noah, All The Time ahead of me and I really hate to admit this but the last hour and a half I've spent playing some incredibly convoluted game of Thomas trains has robbed me of a decent portion of my will to live.
I tried distracting him with a puzzle so I could check my email but he was so displeased at my failure to applaud each and every correctly-placed piece (but oh my God, it's a 100-piece puzzle! At least let me hold my applause until you finish a general area or match up a complete set of fish eyeballs!) that he abandoned it in favor of lying on the carpet and whining to an invisible teacher that "Mommy isn't playing with me the right waaaaay and she isn't shaaaaring and it's not faaaaair and she hurt my feeeeelings and isn't my friiiiiiiiiieeend anymore." I'm wondering how many preschool-caliber insults he's got left before he realizes that Ms. Beth is not here to referee, and also that I snuck out of the room 10 minutes ago.
I will say this: Noah takes his train-table play scenarios very seriously. They're basically a G-rated version of my own Days of Isle of Sodor Peaks As The Roundhouse Doohicky Turns, though they involve a lot more 1) going around and around in circles, 2) crashing, and 3) I don't know what else, the plot was a little complicated.
Something about windmills, I think.
Anyway, I have some puzzle assembly to supervise and an already more-than-healthy sense of self-esteem to nurture. He's figured out that I'm not downstairs anymore and is currently howling "STOP FINISHING YOUR WORK RIGHT THIS MINUTE" at me. I better listen before I get put in time-out, or something.