For Christmas Afi gave Cameron an awesome gift. It’s an axe. It’s a hammer. It’s wire cutters, wrench, knife blade, a couple of saws, file, screwdriver, and I can’t recall what else. Very cool, and Cameron was super excited about it. So excited that he started running around with it, pretending to cut, hack, and saw various items in the house.
I made very deft use of distraction and tucked it away, with the intent of bringing it out when we went camping.
But then I tidied a small patch of the stuff-dumping-zone in our bedroom (er, did I say ‘the’? Let’s be accurate here. My. My stuff dumping zone. Old habits die hard), and didn’t tuck it back out of sight.
Hey, Mamma, I remember that! That’s mine! Can I play with it?
NO, my answer was. It’s for camping. And not a toy.
This of course led to many tears and promises that he wouldn’t play with it, he’d be good with it. And the next day we had a discussion about what this meant. It’s six months later. Call me foolish, but I’m giving him a chance.
So, we went into the back yard yesterday, in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, and he got to learn how to use this thing. We went through each of the tools/blades, discussing what they were for, and what they were NOT for. We talked about what I mean by ‘play’. We talked about using tools like this with intention, and what this means. We talked about handling the blade – never cut towards you!
With careful supervision, I let him loose on a dead branch.
Amazingly, the child still has all his fingers and toes. Especially toes – yes, I know, flip flops aren’t the safest foot gear.
And he’s so happy.