Both boys had a day off on Monday, a completely unstructured day where the three of us went with the flow. They played quite a bit with each other, and sometimes with me; we read together, watched some TV, and wrestled! Poor Mummy was comprehensively vanquished many times over. But right in the middle of the day, we decided to venture outside with a ball. At least, it began with one ball, but inevitably, S insisted on his own. P tried to get him to just kick it back & forth with no luck, so I kicked with him instead. But that didn't last long before he started to vary the activity in odd ways, and I started to feel as though we were heading down our usual path, where we were all just did our own thing. At that moment, P proposed a game of poison ball. Nice idea, I thought, but couldn't see how we could pull it off with just 2 of us playing, and S no doubt ready to disrupt whatever we managed to play. S, however, claimed that he would play. P set about regaling us with barely comprehensible instructions, which I cut short, but which were replaced by interminable rituals to choose who would be it. S had started buzzing around in overdrive again, and I could see it all failing before we even started. I declared that I would be "it", briefly delineated some boundaries, and told them I would close my eyes & count to 3 so they could move away from me a bit; I just wanted to get things moving! While my eyes were closed, they headed into the house and hid under the desk in a fit of giggles.
Well, it was all good natured, so why should I be upset? I was though; shouldn't we, by now, be able to play a simple ball game? I should interject here that both boys have had some play sessions with friends in the last week where I was struck afresh by how straightforward other kids are; P was chastised by one playmate for talking too much and not just getting on with the game, and another looked repeatedly at S with confusion as he failed to respond to simple requests to do things together; eventually he snapped out of it, but seeing another child perplexed drove home just how much ponderousness I live with in this house. And so, I thought, P had proposed a game of his choice, S said he wanted to be a part of it, and I, the adult, had tried to facilitate, and failed. Yes indeed, we are a ponderous, lumbering bunch, my worst fears confirmed.
So what did I do? Nothing sensible; I had a sulk. I brought the ball in, threw it in the ball basket, told them they were bad sports, and that I didn't want to play with them any more. The effect was instant. P ran outside in tears; S ran to me and all but begged forgiveness. Who would have thought?
So out we went again and, for the first time ever, WE PLAYED A BALL GAME TOGETHER! And it was long, at least 10 minute, till P was losing co-ordination from the effort, and S was starting to ignore the rules and lapse into his old habits. But until then, it felt amazingly good! Should I worry that I brought it all together by throwing a little tanty?
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