Morning with Daddy

For this blog post, John is writing.

Today I went outside to work on Kelly's Mother's Day present. I'm extending the terracing along the side of our house (the other side had been done for years). Kelly wanted to have the first terrace done for Mother's Day as she wants to try her hand at growing strawberries. Unlike the previous times I've worked on installing retaining wall stones, I now have a helper. William LOVES to help (especially me), whether it be bringing in the groceries, putting in a screw, using some sort of potentially dangerous power tool, or handing nasty chemicals. Of course, he is distraught when he can't help out (dangerous power tool, and nasty chemicals).

So he was outside with me along the side of the house helping me level and put in the retaining wall stones. Now, I'm a tad obsessive-compulsive and I like things to be exactly right. The process involves putting in a little gravel, pounding it down, installing the stone checking the level in multiple directions, adjusting the amount of gravel etc... William helps out by adding more rock to the pile, sometimes when I'm taking it out. He also enjoys getting his feet into the hole to help me pound it down, when I'm trying to use the tamper. I know he's trying to help, but sometimes I'm about to hit the ground with the tamper when he decides that we need a little more gravel and his hand goes underneath. Ack!

I try to think up things that he can do to help out, that aren't dangerous or involve him putting is arms, legs, or hands in danger, but sometimes I can't. Even trying to give him something else to do doesn't seem to work. I remember when my dad was working on building something out of wood, he would give me my own wooden block (had my name on it), a hammer, and a nail and I'd go to town putting the nail into the wood and pulling it back out. I remember doing that happily for hours. However, William seems to see through that and knows Daddy is where the real action can be found.

The retaining wall and the terrace did get done in time for Mother's Day. It took a little longer than it perhaps should have. I hope William feels like he helped me out. I had to keep telling him to stop putting rocks in the hole, and get his feet out.

Anyway, this all made me think. I used to love to help my dad when he was working on different projects, and help my mom out when she was making dinner. It made me think how helpful was I really? Maybe as I got older I became more helpful, I was, but when I was three? If I was as helpful as William is, I'm betting I was more of a nuisance than a help. Remembering and appreciating that time spent learning different skills at the side of my parents helps me find my patience with my own little helper!