Have Hammer, Will Build…

Something

One result of the move is that I feel like, of late, I’ve spent very little time actually interacting with my kids. They’ve been busy enjoying more space and I’ve been busy trying to organize and make that space livable. It has been a nice summer break, but I’ve been starting to feel a little out of touch… especially with my five-year-old son.

This morning I decided to devote the day to working on his room (which he shares with his sister). The first order of business was putting together his new dresser so he would finally have a place to put his clothes. I was happy that he showed an interest in helping.

We started out pulling all the pieces out of the box and he immediately decided that this was “much funner” than he thought it would be. We examined the instructions together and he quickly overcame his worries that he would not be able to read them. They were entirely illustrated, no text at all. We set about sorting the hardware and selecting the boards that we would start with.

In the past, I’ve given quite a bit of thought to the whole nature vs. nurture debate. But watching my son this morning with his hammer and his screwdriver, it was a bit eerie to see the reflections of family. He would do this thing with his mouth, for instance, when he concentrated on getting a screw started that reminded me so much of my father. Then I would get a glimpse of my brother -- the similar hair color as well as the look of concentration. In that smile I saw a flash of my grandfather, a man he never even knew.

My son has spent time with my dad, but not so much that one would think he would mimic his facial expressions. He’s never really had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with my brother, so the similarities have got to be from the pieces of them that come from the same place. Really makes me wonder who else is reflected there that I’m just not recognizing.

What really amazed me is that, at the age of five, he has the aptitude as well as the interest in “building things.” Is that in his blood, as well? He could screw the screws in tight. He could set a nail and hammer it all the way in. Perhaps he was slower than I was, but he was very determined to do it all himself. And he did, right down to the very last drawer when he was finally exhausted enough to ask me to just finish it up.

Building the dresser took most of our morning, and it was well worth the time spent. It gave us some one-on-one time we desperately needed.

He tells me, by the way, that he loves to hammer most of all. “I’m going to keep on building things till I am good enough that I can build my own house,” he says. And I believe that someday he will.