When Ming was little he only once said, “Muuuuummmmm – I’m booooored!” because I immediately retorted, “The only children who ever get bored are booooooring themselves!” From that moment, he became more self-sufficient.
Okay, the above is a summary of several similar conversations with little Ming not long after I stopped being interested in finding the missing lego pieces in a Harry Potter castle or two.
Today, in the nursing home, helping Ants with his lunch, watching the television series, my mother’s visit – the almost clockwork regularity of this routine – struck me….
I recently read an article about how boredom can be a good thing, that it allows a person to sit back and re-perceive things and embrace the boredom as a kind of contentment. I do understand this because I have experienced it. And with Ants these hours are valuable time together as he gets more and more incapacitated.
This whole acceptance thing has been wonderful for all of us but I’m beginning to realise that I have also stunned myself with a kind of boredom. And, if boredom = boring, then I am guilty.
I will still spend many hours per day with Ants, but am now excited about writing more seriously; I’ve even planned a schedule of writing ….
No way will I let that boredom thing creep in.
jmgoyder 