Apr 11, 2018 3 min read

When I was a kid, the last thing I ever said to my parents was, “I’m bored.” As sure as the sunrise if I did, they would find me an activity to occupy my time. Even surer than the sunrise, it would be work that I didn’t want to perform. Instead, when I was bored I sucked it up and, if I was moping about, at least I did it silently.

Today, we have somehow determined it is necessary as parents to entertain our children 24 hours a day. We schlep them from activity to activity, hoping to prevent boredom for them at the expense of our own opportunity to relax and enjoy the comforts we have worked hard to achieve.

When we do take a momentary rest, we hand our kiddos remote controls, tablets, cellphones and other electronic devices that keep them further occupied. When they still become bored, they seek us out to solve that problem for them as well.

I have recently had enough of it from my youngest. He is a television and computer enthusiast, and although he doesn’t have a phone, we have a tablet or two floating around that still have games loaded on them. Despite these toys, he is often heard remarking how he has nothing to do.

Last weekend, he became bored watching television while my oldest and I were laying laminate flooring at my dad’s house. I told him to come help us instead. When my daughter would call out a measurement, I would cut the sheet and hand it to my son to carry upstairs to her.

He was quick to inform me that this job was also boring. After coaxing, cajoling, snarking and finally snapping at him that it wouldn’t kill him to help us, I finally told him he could go if he went outside to play and didn’t come back inside for at least an hour.

He grabbed a jacket and took off. I saw him walking around, looking under rocks and swishing sticks in the tall grass at the edge of the woods. Then, a few minutes later, I saw him leave the shed with a small wheelbarrow full of tools. He pushed it through the yard toward an old, rusted truck parked at the edge of the hayfield. The next time I saw him, he was under the open hood, turning wrenches.

My daughter and I continued working until we ran out of materials. The chicken I had put in the crockpot that morning was ready, so I called across the yard for my son to come inside to wash up for supper. He came, somewhat unwillingly.

“Is my hour up already, Mom?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s been over an hour,” I replied. “But if you’re not finished, by all means, you can go back out after dinner.”

“Oh, good,” he said. “I’m thinking I might get that old truck running yet today.”

As sure as the sunrise, there was no chance of that happening. But, his imagination had finally kicked in and there was no chance I was shutting it down.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.