Nothing Mindless About It

I've decided that my expectations need to be realistic when it comes to Kindergarten. In fact, I'm OK if I can at least be assured that in some way, shape, or form Jrod used his mind during the day. When I pick him up for school, I am usually assured of this....but not always in the most traditional ways.

Most days picking up Jrod from school is uneventful. Like many boys, he doesn't like to talk a whole lot about his day. "I forgot" is a common answer to my question: "what did you do today?" As I've mentioned before, he may think I'm clueless, but I don't let him in on my little secret that I'm not. That boy can remember every detail and just doesn't feel like talking about it. I'm usually OK with it - he'd much rather plan out the rest of his day, talk about what he's NOT going to eat for lunch, and flip through the Adventures in Odyssey's to decide which story to listen to next.

Every once in a while, however, Jrod gets in the car with a purpose. A grand purpose. And I know he's used his mind. Yes, every once in a while my son enters the car in carpool line ready to lay it out like it is.

For example, it was just a few weeks ago that Jrod got in the car, sat down, buckled up, and looked at me. He then declared: "Mom, you have got to get a job."

It's at times like these that I realize Jrod and I are a lot alike. You see, my hope is that my children will attend school to learn. And certainly this is the case, but I also know that Jrod treats school like I treat running - it's a time to solve all of life's little problems and dilemmas. When I run, my mind is clear and fresh, and for that hour, I come up with conclusions to problems that seem impossible. I dream up possibilities that are nothing short of exciting, and I see things in a whole new light. All is put back into perspective, of course, when I walk through my front door. As the saying goes, "Back to Life, Back to Reality." And suddenly my solutions to life's problems don't seem as brilliant.

Jrod goes to school and pays attention to the necessities, much like I pay attention to the cars around when I'm jogging, but for the rest of those three hours, my son solves all his dilemmas. On this particular day he was informing me of a conclusion that he came to that was much too important not to share.

"Jrod," I told him, "I have a job; a very important job."

"I know, I know. Take care of me. But mom, seriously, you need a real job - like Dads."

"OK, Jrod, if I got a job, who would pick you up from school?"

"Mom, we'd figure it out. This is just really important. I mean, mom, you have got to stop using Dad's money to pay for your police tickets."

It only took two school days for him to figure out how poor Dad was not going to go broke and end up on the streets because of mom's speeding tickets. Problem solved.

Today, I pulled up to the carpool line a few minutes late. When I drove up, I saw Jrod standing in the carpool line by himself with his teacher. I opened the door, he got in, sat down, buckled up and asked: "What was it this time, mom? Was there like totally so much traffic or did you just fall asleep on the couch?" Another dillemma solved: Figure out what mom does all day. Check. Surely mom was late because of some great catastrophe on the highway. And if not that, she fell asleep. Because, well, what the heck else does she have to do?

I began slowly but surely climbing my pedestal. I went on and on about how important my "job" is at home. And how he doesn't have to cook and clean, because I do. And how he doesn't have to worry about his daily schedule and snacks and school, because I do. And how mommy was late because mommy was spending the morning studying God's Word with the ladies in her Bible study. God's Word, for heaven's sake! If that's not an excuse for being late, I don't know what is!

I slowly stepped down from my pedestal, lowered the rear view mirror and saw Jrod playing his video game. "Did you hear me, Jrod?"

"What, Mom?"

I decided in that moment to leave my sons world alone. He'll figure it all out someday, and probably way too quickly. So for now, I'll send him to school knowing that he'll ponder some other crisis or dilemma and I will gladly listen to his conclusions on matters such as "why my best girl friend is taller than I am." He has yet to have a "walking through realities door" like I do after a run. But what does it matter? He's using his mind.