Ok, so that didn't work.. but it was still kind of fun.....

I commute about an hour and 15 minutes to and from work Monday through Friday.  My drive is, for the most part, pleasant.  I live in New Hampshire; we don’t have the horrendous traffic that other states have, generally speaking.   But saying this, I do hit a little pocket of traffic each day, more so at night than in the morning.  It is the kind of traffic that even with you anticipating it; you still go from a healthy 55 mph to a screaming stop in 2.4 seconds. And I hate it.  And every day I grumble about this inconvenience and vow to figure out a different way home that won’t take me too far off course. 

But am I in that big a hurry?  No, not really.  Some days I am rushing to get home to run someone somewhere, but most days I am just driving to get home, nothing more. And am I tied up for ½ hour or greater?  Honestly, no, not even.  It might be a 15 minute delay, that’s truly it..  So why does it annoy me so badly?  Thinking back on it, I can only assume that it is because it is something that I don’t want to happen and when it does, I get annoyed and yes, sometimes I pout.  I had a plan laid out and this was a deviation from my “perfect getting home for the night plan”.  

Something as simple as traffic patterns made me realize how many times we lay out a plan, perfect in our mind and then how often something happens to derail us from our anticipated completion.  As adults, we normally have to smile and move on, maybe sometimes we hide in the bathroom and throw a minor tantrum..  How many times have we had a perfect birthday party, outing, or even holiday mapped out and then the reality is anything but.  We are disappointed.  Sad.  Sometimes angry that the pieces didn’t fall into place the way we WANTED it to be.  And rather than stop and think, wow, even though today might not have been great, it wasn’t horrible; we tend to focus on what went wrong.  Not: Gee, I did still spend time with people I love and that’s alright in the grand scheme of things. That even when it all and out SUCKS, it was still time spent with family, with friends, with a roof over our head, etc.  That, wow, our “failure” (our word) is still better than other’s “successes”.  We don’t do this.  We are disappointed; we let it ruin the event, the day, the situation. 

Yesterday Gabe had to come to my office as he didn’t have school.  At almost 8 years old, he’s easy to have at work with me.  I can plug him into a computer and he gets free reign at his games without having to share with his sister.  I don’t bother him.  I leave him alone for the most part and he loves it.  Once in a while I feed him.  People come into the office and coo over him as some of my employees have been a part of my world since before Gabe was a baby and they remember him.  Sometimes I stalk him and take charming pictures of him in his awesome office swivel chair.  He tolerates my interruptions and the day goes on. 

He, like most children his age, is obsessed with Minecraft.  Digressing a bit from my original point, I have to share a lunch outing we just had.  I met a friend with a 13 year daughter for lunch.  As we sat at the table waiting for our food to arrive, Gabe and this young lady had a full on conversation, one people who finally meet after chatting online for months would be jealous to have, about Minecraft.  They volleyed back and forth, sharing information, secrets, tidbits, and any other little nugget of excitement that only a true fan could appreciate.  My friend and I stopped talking and watched, amused, at their exchange, one that erased an almost 5.5 year and gender difference.  And while, yes, Minecraft is screen time, I am realizing that it is oddly social as well in that they ALL talk about it.  Even shy children have something to say, to add to the conversation, something others WANT to hear.  It’s kind of cool..  It lends to the ability children have to see past obstacles and find a common happy note and run with it.

Back to my original point---Gabe has been asking for a box over the past week to make something to put his Minecraft books in.  He wants them to be showcased in a special manner, away from the other items in his bookshelf.  These books are with him all the time.  They are, I’ve learned, a MUST have item, well sought by his peers.  

I found a small box in the office and he happily set to work cutting it apart to create what he had in his mind’s eye.  He conquered my horrible office shears (NOTHING like the awesomeness that my sewing shears are) and taught himself how to successfully manage my tape dispenser (the end is sharp!  And the tape can bounce out…something I take for granted having used it for years).  He pieced his project together for about 45 minutes.  When he was finished, he proudly showed me and went to get a book to demonstrate how it works.  His creation was not only too narrow, it didn’t hold due to the scotch tape being too weak for the cardboard.  

It collapsed.  He looked at me, devastated.  Truly disappointed that this masterpiece he designed in his head didn’t work.  He grabbed up the pieces of cardboard and threw them away.  He gave me back the scissors and tape.  He looked at me, and although he was clearly upset and wiping his eyes a bit (oh, pierce my heart!  Honestly, he tried so hard), he says, OK, so that didn’t work…but that was still kind of fun.  I can see what I can do the next time, let’s figure this out.  Can you help me?  

YES..  yes, dear child.  We can figure this out.  We can regroup, come up with a plan, and try again! 

And so, tonight, while I sit in my traffic, rather than find annoyance that my plan was changed, I will accept and be happy that it gives me a few more minutes to listen to the radio and sing loudly and horribly to my favorite songs.  The next time I plan it out perfectly at work, for a birthday party, for a holiday, for my day off; I will remember that some of the best things in the world were a result of a “mistake”, a deviation off the plan.  And I will say, OK, so that didn’t work.. but that was still kind of fun.