I am sitting in the dining room at the table cutting square pieces of colored construction paper for Little Boy to glue onto a bigger sheet of paper.
I, the adult, capable of analysis, soon figure out that I can stack 3 pieces of paper and with each “Snip! Snip!” generate 3 rectangular pieces for the effort of cutting 1.
Soon I am producing more pieces than Little Boy can glue them onto the sheet. I get up and make myself a fresh batch of coffee.
By the time I return to the dining room table, coffee in hand, Little Boy is almost through with the supply of paper confetti. I sip coffee watching Little Boy make an armor of color construction paper.
He glues an area of the sheet. He takes a colored square. He chooses where he wants that color to appear on the sheet. He places it on the sheet.
Each choice deliberate. Each deliberation pocketing a sliver of time.
Then I, the adult, capable of higher order thinking, figure out that an even more efficient way for me to save time is to keep stacking keep cutting until I produce a pile of paper pieces enough for multiple gluing sessions.
I can keep these in a dry box, empty out what Little Boy needs. A confetti paper vending machine! What time I will save! I can be in the same room with Little Boy and do my own thing while he glues a parade of rectangles onto sheets of paper. Oh, Glorious Efficiency!
I pick up scissors anticipating all this then I realize:
I, the adult, capable of projecting myself into futures meaningless now, have a lot to learn about being present.
This confetti collage is as much my work of art as it is Little Boy’s. This is ours.
Each piece marks the stitch of time I spend with Little Boy, these years people say I must relish and cherish because he grows up faster than I can rush ahead of him.
This moment, these days of summer with Little Boy, is as much mine for the making as it is his for the taking.