I’ve come across the idea that you should give your children the gift of boredom numerous times now. I forget that this is just as true for me, too. On days like today, which could have been another busy, full day, likely rushing from one thing to another, grabbing lunch on the go and getting increasingly stressed as the afternoon wore on, I find myself thankful when I end up doing only a fraction of the things I expected to do.
And invigorated. The space and time to do anything at all leaves me feeling more anchored to the present, calmer, more connected with Ava and Ezra. What fills that time is the really important stuff – play, laughter, ideas. Nothing new or revolutionary, but wonderful. Playsilk dens, mars bar crispy cakes, books read on the driveway, chalk drawings on the concrete, pictures painted, kisses and wild wrestling between siblings, chairs and tables climbed and conquered, words emerging from the Littlest one, plans for a mud kitchen, purple thistles blooming in the garden. All of it.
Being outside between sudden downpours, watching clouds pass with Ava who tells me they are beautiful, and that she wants to be a fairy so she can live in them, I am sure that these are the best kind of days and I try to remember how it feel to be here, with them, doing not much of anything beyond just being, and I will myself to remember the magic of it, so tomorrow I can do it again.
‘Children, children, don’t forget
There are elves and faeries yet.
Where the knotty hawthorne grows
Look for prints of fairy toes.
Where the grassy rings are green
Moonlight dances shall be seen..’