To those of us unfamiliar with the things that delight nine-year-old boys, a slinky is a spring which when placed at the top of a set of stairs topples elegantly step by step to the bottom. The igloo is a toy sized pop-up den for the favoured ‘pet of the day’. Why these should be in his bed is a mystery, which I have no intention of unravelling, to do so would necessitate asking him why he needs the samurai sword!
I suppose I should be thankful that there are some books and no foodstuff among the chaos. Our decision to invest in a ‘sleeping system’ for our boys’ bedroom now seems foolish as changing the sheets on two high sleeper beds is almost as demanding as figuring out which of the multitude of wooden legs, rails and shelf combinations best suits our growing boys’ needs.
Yes, I was duped by the fancy brochure which described the elegant and effortless transition from one stage to the next: “Toddler’s beds with safety rails morph easily into bunks for your growing children and during the school years you will delight in the neat and tidy bedrooms complete with serene seating and readily accessible storage space.”
The reality of an attic full of wooden bed legs, nuts, bolts and brackets and beds where we must ascend to lofty heights and actively search for our children in the morning is a long way from serene and ordered. The additional floor space is definitely a bonus but when used for expansive Lego constructions is a real minefield to the tip-toeing parent checking on their snoozing offspring.
The actual beds are mere inches away from the ceiling require mountaineering equipment to reach, so I mercifully only get to see the accumulated treasures in their cosy dens on the awful days I must battle with the bed linen.
I wish I had a reset button, a do-over. If only I could go back and undo my ill-advised purchase, I would let them sleep on the floor and take us all to Florida on the money we saved. Or would I?
The recent movie About Time explores the notion of living mindfully, and in so doing avoid some of the many daft and even damaging life choices we can so effortlessly make. Armed with an ability to travel back to any time in his life, the hero is advised to live each day normally and then go back in time and relive the day as he wishes he had lived it in the first instance, with kindness, patience and above all, good humour.
Once adept at this, he no longer needs the re-run and gets it right the first time, living each day mindfully and with joy. In reality nothing in his life changes except his perspective and so everything changes.
We would all do well to follow suit. We may only have one attempt to get it right the first time around but we have the ability, with practice, to change our perspective and see things anew.
For me, I may still be irritated with the jumble that is my son’s room, but he revels in the happy space he has created for himself, and with practice, I am learning to be happy too.