We moved to the city when my boys were toddlers. I shed tears in sessions, endured a hefty dose of grief. During one particular session, being a forward thinker (worrywart), I heaved gut-wrenching sobs for the loss of freedom to roam the countryside that my three sons, then toddlers, would experience.
We’ve been city dwellers for seven years. My boys aren’t toddlers anymore and, it’s true, they don’t have the freedom to step outside their backdoor to explore green roaming hills or wide open fields. But they do have a neighborhood and they do have bikes. Still, in the city we have rules. So they are free to roam as long as they stay together within pre-determined neighborhood boundaries. And they have to check in every hour…
“Mom!”
“M-o-m!”
I get on my feet fast when I hear two moms in a row!
“Mom, today is TF141!!!”
I relax, “TF141?”
“You know… Trash Force 141!”
It began with a blow up raft, the kind you use in country ponds or on lakes. We live near the beach, but this is certainly not an ocean raft. I suggested it might make a fun pool raft.
“No mom, can we blow it up and use it in the studio?”
“…O-k-a-y, sure, of course.” Why not? Imagination is, I reminded myself, more important than open fields.
The next hour Søren and Liam came home with a wooden sword and the hour after that it was a life-sized Sponge Bob costume.
I thought I had seen it all, but later that day when I began closing down shop— putting Legos and colored pencils and bike helmets in their proper place—I found an old backpack I had never seen before and an empty suitcase! I took a deep breath and prayed that our family was not going to become the neighborhood refuse-sorting center. I would give it a week or so, surely the novelty would wear off.
That night after dinner—the hour when activity shifts to quiet mode—I kept hearing a faint music box playing. I chalked it off to Taylor composing something on Logic. But then Søren came into the room with the head of a toy zebra impaled on a wooden skewer. He began to explain that the object is part of an idea brewing inspired by Leonardo da Vinci.
Turns out the creepy music box melody was Taylor composing. He had rescued the music box that was once tucked inside the stuffed zebra and was in the studio recording it to incorporate into a composition.
One man’s trash is another boy’s treasure! I’m so glad my boys can be boys.