On Tuesday morning, my oldest said, “Mah-meee… you’re really bad at thinking.” Then he proceeded to tell me why I should not have done something ( cannot recall what, think was some cardboard creation thing) the way I did, and he provided an alternative suggestion.
On Tuesday evening, he dropped a pencil cap and it rolled under the sofa.
“Couldn’t you help me, Mummy?”
I half-heartedly tried sweeping under the sofa a few times with a sheet of hard plastic.
“Sorry, honey. It’s too hard. Let me try again later okay?”
He kept quiet, got on his knees and took the plastic sheet and continued sweeping under the sofa.
Less than a minute later, he pipped, “Wait a moment,” and he crossed overto the other side of the sofa.
Then he got on his knees and popped up again holding his pencil cap.
“I got it all by myself.”
“Wow! You did!” I said.
He happily went off to continue his drawing which he had been at for the last one hour.
So I conclude, that really not only may I be bad at thinking, I’m likely not as good at persevering as my son.