Work is our Play! Part 1: A Matter of Perspective

"Remember? Remember when I told you that play is our work?" My six year old says excitedly to her younger sister, "Well, work is also our play! Because this is fun!"

They are shelling beans. I have never seen anyone so excited about shelling beans as my kids were that day.

A mundane task out on the farm where my husband's family reside.

"Daddy, Daddy, come look! This is how we do it! See, we open these up and drop the beans in the basket, see?"

"You're going to tell me how it's done?" My husband jokes, "Honey, I slept in the bean basket growing up."

Ahh, if only all of life's jobs were as exhillirating and enthralling as shelling beans is to my kids. Or shucking corn, when I was a kid (I swear, that's what it's called!) Man we loved to shuck us some corn. My brothers and I would sit out on the back porch with a box of corn and peel away those tightly wrapped leaves. It was most fun when you got to the silk, it was so, well, silky. And hairy. And slimy -or dry, you never knew what you were going to get, maybe that was part of the fun of it.

I think, maybe, it's all in the attitude, though. Shelling beans, for some reason, is not particularly exciting to my husband. It was a task that always had to be done and he did it. Boring, whatever. For some reason my kids think it's really fun, because even though the novelty has worn off, they continue to ask their Grandmother if there are more beans to shell. Every time we go over, which is quite often. And when there are, they happily do it.

Shucking corn is still fun for me, I guess that's something that carried over from childhood. Maybe because it evokes fond memories it is a silly and simple task that I still enjoy. Unlike, say... Doing laundry. Have I mentioned my hatred of laundry? Laundry and dishes, sigh, weary, life-draining responsibilities.

Guess what? In a family of six, there be a lot of laundry and dishes mateys, a never ending train of crusty plates and dirty shorts.

But those things aren't the only ones I may have *cough* sometimes been known to have a deal with. Things like losing stuff. OH my gosh, I HATE losing things. My keys, my phone, the baby wipes, the spatula... It's infuriating to me when something I just had has completely vanished.

So sometimes I'll hear one of my kids playing with a toy and it will o something like this:

Kid making toy (usually a My Little Pony) talk: "OH MY GOSH. WHERE is it, grrrr... I can't find it anywhere, Arg! I'm so mad! Does it have legs? Did it just walk away? Aaaaahhhhh!"

Me: "Uuuhhh, what's up with your pony?"

Kid (laughing): "Oh, my pony just lost something, see? She's really mad (makes toy talk again) Arrrrggg!!!"

Me: "Ah (gulp) I see..."

You see how Me equals Bad Example Extraordinare? It's bad when they're making their toys act like you. It's worse when they themselves actually act like you.

That example goes somehing like this:

Kid (from backseat while sitting at a long light): "Sigh, Mom, when is the flipping light ever going to change?"

Hey. Mini Me. Back off. Frustration with inanimate objects is my turf. Kapish?

It's really all about attitude, isn't it. It is incredibly important that we model good attitudes for our kids. Obviously, there will be times we fail and those are great times to point them to the cross, to model repentance and humility and other words that still sometimes stick in my throat because, homygosh, I am so human! But I do believe that practice makes us better and that just through practicing having a better attitude about things we will actually grow a new perspective of them and that is a great model for our kids as well.

Back to the farm yard.

The sun is dancing down and great ribbons of gold are streaking across the sky. The beans have been shelled and we're all sipping tea in the shup (outdoor kitchen) and it's a little chilly because fall is at hand. The six year old laughs to herself as she helps Gjysha carry the tea tray and says again, "Work is our play!"

May work be your play today.

Beans, all harvested and shelled, drying for winter use.

Play is our Work!

I love it when I see little children acting out "grown-up" things. Practicing for when they are us, copying what they see. I especially love the imaginative and innocent twists they put on every day things, which give us little glimpses into that magic of childhood. I love how exciting they find things like washing the dishes, hanging laundry, standing in line at the airport. (Really? You want to play airport lines? Not airplanes, not travel, but airport lines???Because I think that actually makes my top ten list of worst things ever. Yup, it's right in there under Having One of My Limbs Devoured by a Shark.*) Huh, maybe we could stand to learn from their attitudes... as they are undoubtedly learning from ours...

I will get more into that aspect of it in my next post~ "Work is our Play" A Post on Attitude and Calling~ but for now, I'll just share this sweet story.

This past week we applied for our baby daughter's U.S. passport and documents (which were approved, yay!) Paperwork, for me, is a nightmare. I hate it. It brings me into perilously close contact with the left side of my brain, that hemisphere I usually try to keep in hiding, pretending it doesn't exist because, frankly, it hates me and its extended use is always painful and frequently embarrassing.
But I did that paperwork. And then I did it all over again when we found out we had the outdated forms. And I ran back and forth making sure we had every document and copies of every document, all placed in perfect order in a neat and shiny blue folder. And it paid off, because we'll be getting our baby's passport in the mail very soon. Thank you Lord.

So yesterday I found our oldest daughter engrossed in cutting out and coloring a stack of pretty papers. They looked like rainbow snowflakes. I asked her what she was doing.
"Oh, just getting all my documents ready to get my passport for Adelina Land."
"Ah, Adelina Land."

Some kids have imaginary friends, mine have imaginary lands, complete with their own unique flora, fauna, dress, culture, and apparently, passport application processes.

"Yeah," She went on, "Then I have to take these documents over there to get that other document that I need to take to the Embassy."
She completes this task and shows me the paper filled with blue swirls she has colored, which she 'receives' in exchange for the rainbow ones she has just finished at the imaginary office, which is the living room couch.

I go away to stand at the sink and daydream as I inconspicuously nibble on a cookie, hoping not to get caught wash dishes.

A little while later she bounces into the room, "Mommy, take a picture of me for my trip! I got my passport, I'm ready to go!" She has donned her fanciest shirt, a bandanna, a purse, and has made herself a passport complete with self-portrait which she has hooked onto her shirt with a pipe cleaner."

"Oh my, you sure are!" I snap her picture and she flounces up the stairs. Later I head up to my bedroom for something and find her reclined on my bed, reading a book. Next to her is her purse and a bag full of books, as well as a stuffed rabbit nestled against the pillow beside her. "Oh hey, are you having some alone time? I can come back later." I ask. Her alone time is very important to her. "Nah, this is my hotel room in the country I'm staying in. Tomorrow I fly back to Adelina Land. See? I brought some books to read so I won't be bored and my bunny to sleep with."
"Wow, you thought everything through didn't you? Good planning."
"Yeah." She goes back to reading and I get what I need and go back downstairs. She played this game for a good two hours straight.

And I continued to be amazed by the way she played out her perception of things, there was so much learning and processing that went into this little play session. It reminded me of something she said (*caughyelledcough*) at her very practical younger sister the other day when said sibling confronted her with the (horrendous) idea that they didn't need anymore toys because they have a lot: "Teuta! Play is our work!"

And that right there is a great truth of childhood.

*For all the litteralists out there, I fully realize that having one's limbs torn off by a shark would be way worse than standing in line at the airport. Like, two or even three spots above it.