Home is where the Legos are

My son, Silas, is in first grade this year. He seems to be enjoying it. Of course he doesn't enjoy school as much as he enjoys watching cartoons on the couch, playing Legos on the floor, and eating chicken nuggets, but what could possibly compare to those activities anyway?

Kindergarten was a rough year.

Silas is not a temper-tantrum, kicking, screaming kind of child, but in his own way it was rough. Every time he was asked about school he'd simply reply that it was "terrible, horrible."

The only exception to this was when they had root beer floats for a snack one day. Cupcakes and cookies didn't make the cut; those days were still terrible and horrible. The entire school year was a little like living with the kid from "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day," which is a fantastic book, but not such a great parenting experience.

So far this year, Silas really likes snack time, lunch and recess. I assume that he does other things during the day, but he never tells me about them.

I have high hopes that even in these tough economic times children are still taught reading, writing and math. I once told Silas he had to do well in school so that he could succeed in life and then go on to support me financially. My mom told me after this comment to stop putting weird thoughts into his head.

One of the best things about first grade is that there is a bin of Legos in the classroom. I believe Silas felt right at home as soon as he saw those. To Silas, home is not where the heart is, but where the Power Miners Lego set is.

I'm amazed at how busy some of the kids in his class are.

They go to soccer practice and gymnastics and music lessons.

These kids are more hardworking than I am now, and certainly more than I was in the first grade. The only extracurricular activity I partook in at that age was T-ball, which I was awesome at. By awesome I mean that I stood around on the bases talking to the other kids about their shoes while my parents would yell at me from the stands to "Run! Run!" The only other time I tried to participate in sports was in high school.

My freshman year I was cut from the softball team, probably because I hadn't paid enough attention in T-ball nine years earlier, as well as the fact I had almost no ability to throw, and no motivation to put myself in the path of a ball, which, contrary to the name of the sport, was not soft at all. After that disappointment I joined the tennis team, which was a no-cut sport and so the coaches had no choice but to allow me into the ranks of the junior varsity team.

As you can probably imagine, I was also not a rousing success at that sport, either, but at least no one forced me to leave.

I once tried to enroll Silas in pee-wee soccer and was proud to observe that he had inherited the sportsmanship of his mother. Silas would wander off the field and into the grass. Soccer wasn't all bad, he liked the snacks I brought while sitting in the field, and he liked rolling down the hills until the grass gave him an allergic reaction all over his face.

For now I don't feel any desire to put Silas into any extracurricular activities.

I'm simply happy that school, at least the recess and lunch parts of it, are more enjoyable for him. If he wants to keep to his after school Lego club (membership: one child and one incredibly fun auntie) then who am I to stand in his way?

At least he's found something that he loves.

Zoe Abel would love to join an adults only T-ball team. You can contact her at dailyzoe@gmail.com

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