I was watching Abigail build one of her Lego towers and along came Elyas who, in perfect toddler fashion, destroyed it.
Abigail cried out, "No, Elyas!" and then set about building it again. Again, Elyas came over and destroyed her tower.
A third tower was erected. And a third tower was deconstructed.
A fourth was begun; a fourth preemptively crumbled.
A fifth round.
A sixth.
Each time Elyas wrought his damage, Abigail would cry out "No Elyas!" and then start over. She never moved and she never asked for help. She would simply begin again and he would toddle over to stop her progress.
I sat watching and found myself thinking of the common sense definition of insanity. You know, the one which states that insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results. Abigail's tower building while Elyas was still free to attack was absolutely insane.
But equally insane was the older children's response. Each time Elyas would topple a tower, a chorus of older voices would chide, "No Elyas. That's rude." Seriously, this statement was repeated six times in a chorus of six voices. And it never once phased Elyas, caused him to stop and ponder his actions, or to reconsider his next course of action.
Finally, Aidan stood up and picked Elyas up, carried him away from Abigail, and sat Elyas onto his lap. Then he called to Keats: "Guard Abigail, please. Just in case he gets away from me." Abigail built her tower before she called to Elyas to come and topple this last one, inviting, structure of breakability to the ground.
Now, Elyas, Abigail, Keats, and Aidan are all happily playing away on the floor with the Legos together. It seems that the teamwork required to construct the tower created a camaraderie among the four youngest Rutherfords.
As I sat back and watched these last 15 minutes unfold, I found myself wondering how many times I have done the same thing while expecting different results. Or how many times have I sat back and instructed a friend without the willingness to put forth efforts to actually assist.
To be brutally honest, I think it would be safe to say that more often than not I think of a way to physically help, yet do not act on it. I don't write the encouragement note. I don't make the meal. I don't watch their children, clean their house, wash their laundry . . .
But watching the joy which Keats, Aidan, Abigail, and Elyas all shared together after their joint efforts made me realize that when we decide not to assist one another, we are actually missing out on the joy of accomplishment, not just the work to get there. We loose the peace which comes from doing a job well. We loose the bond which is forged by kindness. In the end, I loose much more than the efforts of helping would have cost me.
Abigail cried out, "No, Elyas!" and then set about building it again. Again, Elyas came over and destroyed her tower.
A third tower was erected. And a third tower was deconstructed.
A fourth was begun; a fourth preemptively crumbled.
A fifth round.
A sixth.
Each time Elyas wrought his damage, Abigail would cry out "No Elyas!" and then start over. She never moved and she never asked for help. She would simply begin again and he would toddle over to stop her progress.
I sat watching and found myself thinking of the common sense definition of insanity. You know, the one which states that insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results. Abigail's tower building while Elyas was still free to attack was absolutely insane.
But equally insane was the older children's response. Each time Elyas would topple a tower, a chorus of older voices would chide, "No Elyas. That's rude." Seriously, this statement was repeated six times in a chorus of six voices. And it never once phased Elyas, caused him to stop and ponder his actions, or to reconsider his next course of action.
Finally, Aidan stood up and picked Elyas up, carried him away from Abigail, and sat Elyas onto his lap. Then he called to Keats: "Guard Abigail, please. Just in case he gets away from me." Abigail built her tower before she called to Elyas to come and topple this last one, inviting, structure of breakability to the ground.
Now, Elyas, Abigail, Keats, and Aidan are all happily playing away on the floor with the Legos together. It seems that the teamwork required to construct the tower created a camaraderie among the four youngest Rutherfords.
As I sat back and watched these last 15 minutes unfold, I found myself wondering how many times I have done the same thing while expecting different results. Or how many times have I sat back and instructed a friend without the willingness to put forth efforts to actually assist.
To be brutally honest, I think it would be safe to say that more often than not I think of a way to physically help, yet do not act on it. I don't write the encouragement note. I don't make the meal. I don't watch their children, clean their house, wash their laundry . . .
But watching the joy which Keats, Aidan, Abigail, and Elyas all shared together after their joint efforts made me realize that when we decide not to assist one another, we are actually missing out on the joy of accomplishment, not just the work to get there. We loose the peace which comes from doing a job well. We loose the bond which is forged by kindness. In the end, I loose much more than the efforts of helping would have cost me.
2 comments:
Once again I am inspired by reading your post... thanks! Have a terrific summer!
Thank you, Dawn. I hope you also have a wonderful summer! Please - let me know if you'll be at Manatawny at all. I would love to hug you and Blaine in person!!
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