Industriousness

One day last week, my son was feeling bad in the morning, and he stayed home from school. It was my half day - just had to send the front page of the paper I write/edit on to the publisher, and I'd be home. He's 11. It was ok.

I came home at noon. He met me at my car in his medieval/death hooded cloak, carrying a big stick.

When I got back up off the ground, he explained that he'd gotten bored. So he was walking around outside in the black cloak, etc.

Thank goodness no one kidnapped him...

He explained that he, in his boredom, had also used some EMPTY boxes to build with. An suspicious amount of emphasis on the "empty," but ok. No big deal, but why the guilty look?

He'd built a castle with about a dozen boxes he'd found around the house (thank you gifted teacher for showing him how to do that...) He only emptied out the sandwich bags from the box. At least there were no piles of rice, or oats lying around, because he needed a turret...

You know, the girls, if they stay home sick, just generally sleep all day...

Then he says, "I've been thinking, I'm gonna start doing more stuff like dad. Like he did when he was my age."

"And I don't mean eating more different food," obviously a reference to the fact that we hound him ALL the time to try something new, just eat anything. He is super picky, and looks like he is from Ethiopia.

What he was apparently referring to is the way my husband ran pretty much wild in the woods, building tree houses, and sheds, and "lean-to's" all over this place, and his parent's place.

So later that afternoon, he built this.

He built this when I thought he was ASLEEP IN HIS ROOM!

Could I actually be getting to the point where my children are more useful than they are trouble? My mind is spinning with the things he could build me; things my dear husband never has time for....

What a boy.