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Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Box

Ragged, jagged, uneven edges.


Packing tape, glue, nothing fancy.


Isn't happiness and joy and the having fun more important than the unattainable perfect straight lines and hearts placed just so?


It's having your sister help, because you don't like the smell of glue.


It's having me watch instead of doing it for him, because my way is not always better.

It's the two of them corroborating ideas; how about a hippo?
A hippo would be cool.  
Needless to say, the hippo never made it on the box.

Should I be teaching them to strive for greatness and perfection in everything they do? Telling them they can do better, and be better, and try harder; and in doing this, they would be miserable in the process of trying to live up to impossible expectations, because really, there is no such thing as perfect.

When he walks into his classroom, with his made-all-by-himself box, I hope he won't see a roomful of boxes made by moms wanting to be better than good enough. Hopefully, he'll see boxes with jagged edges, and glue spots, and uneven edges.


Perfectly imperfect.

2 comments:

  1. Well said. I am a perfectionist by nature and it takes all my strength not to let that side of me get into helping my kids do stuff. But praising them is the best feeling ever. Lovely post. X

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  2. Love this so much. I sometimes have a hard time letting go and letting A just do crafts her way. But when she does? We're both happier.

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