Community gardening

Last week we went to a Homeschool New York event set up by the wonderful Twinkle (remember the Iron Fairies? That Twinkle.) It will be monthly - readers reading a short book to non-readers followed by a fun craft. P had a blast and Loved making butterflies at his favorite library. This week Homeschool New York started their very own community gardening plot, thanks to Milo's mum. P had jumped for joy when the idea was first mentioned but was less than enthusiastic the morning of the event. Which really drove home how easy it has been getting out of the house in the last two months. After months of turn- taking and deal making (I'll stay home Again today, P, if you'll go Anywhere tomorrow :) we'd been happily skipping out of the house a few times a week for fun adventures. I wasn't that surprised he was retracting his excitement. Since he started setting his own (late) bedtime routine, he was getting an average of 9 hours sleep a night. Yah, that's a couple short of what a four year old should be aiming for...

After chatting about the exact details of the day he was finally ready to zoom out the door, dark circles and all :) The garden is a lovely little spot in the East Village, surrounded by tattoo filled locals and ex-hippies. P and I were early and enjoyed the quiet space together, his irksome mood lifting with the outdoors and a good scoot.



When everyone was ready, we joined the gang to prepare our plot. There's nothing this city kid loves more than an excuse to dig in the dirt and he happily grabbed a shovel and heartily moved earth.



Then the drama started. One little girl didn't like where he was placing his dirt. Then another little boy was jealous of P's hole - he wanted a big deep hole too, but didn't want to make his own, he wanted P's :) I felt sorry for P, I could see his frustration mounting as he tried to give everyone their space and stay out of everyone's way. More kids piled around and the jealousy filled boy kept shoving P's shovel aside. P typically holds it together until it is Just Too Much and then he POPS. Wanting to avoid said popping, I lifted him towards the fence to an empty spot in the back. He started to dig a new hole, graciously giving his original one up. Then a little girl whined that she wanted to dig where he was, could he move? Then an older girl told him she wanted his shovel and handed him her hoe. He stuck the hoe into his new hole and realized it wouldn't do the job... and I could see the shadow pass over his face. D'oh. The pop was imminent and I coaxed him away from any moving objects since he was holding a rather large hoe :)

As he (very quietly, heaven forbid this most private child let other's overhear) railed about the loss of his shovel, I really felt for the tired little guy. And I saw so much of his father in him it made me smile. As he instructed me to retrieve the shovel (a community tool of which we had no special claim) and my answer disappointed him, I let him know he had a choice. He was tired and this felt Big. He could stay there, in that big, unhappy spot, and I would hold him while he was there. Or he could choose to let the sadness go and make his day a happy one. I was along for either ride and he really can Choose how his life goes. He swatted at me and then sat there for a second. Then he glanced back at his shovel longingly once more and said, "Let's explore the garden."

And so we did. His friend Milo joined us in a bush fort for a bit.



Then they gathered wood for a bonfire (well, P's was for a bonfire, Milo said he was gathering weapons for the fort, but they did gather sticks together :) Then Milo's unbelievably sweet and thoughtful mama let us know she had some solitary gardening to do, if we were interested. Hah! P jetted over to the now vacant plot and happily planted and watered for the remainder of the garden's hours. In the background, the other home-schoolers chased each other about the space. Ah, well, the kid comes from two introverted adults, you can run from your peers, but not your genes...



As for running from unhappiness, P seemed to embrace that concept wholeheartedly. The next night we met E for dinner after work. P was still tired. He repeatedly and accidentally dropped bits of my veggie burger's bun (that he was loving) onto the less than clean booth seat. As the last piece of bun not covered in spicy mustard slipped from sloppy tired fingers, P buried his head into my arm-nook and quietly cried. The restaurant was so loud I couldn't hear anything he said through his tears, but I kissed his head and he eventually rallied a sad face forward. Once outside, he got his bearings. "Is that Whole Foods over there?" Yup. "I want to go there and get something to replace my bun. There is a sadness in my heart and I want to feel better." E was ready to head home, but anytime a four year old says something like "sadness in my heart" a parent knows that they're smoked.......