One Piece at a Time
It has been cold, folks. Even by Minnesota standards it has been cold. Actually, we've gone past "cold" and straight to "stupid cold." In fact, the Wife and I deemed it too cold to boot the Boy and the Girl outside. When the daytime high does not get above -5°F, it's just stupid cold.
And there is a major problem with not getting outside to burn all that energy. Most folks refer to it as "cabin fever."
It is easy for cabin fever to infect everyone when we are all cooped up in the house, so I had the brainstormingly-fantastic New Years Day idea of doing a puzzle. A fun, family activity. Teamwork! Problem solving! Something to keep our minds occupied during these long, cold months.
So I selected one of the Girl's puzzles which she got for her birthday last year. It is a fair challenge for her, 300 pieces. The plan was after putting this one together, we'd graduate to the big boy puzzles... like, 1,000 pieces! Woo-hoo!
Well, it was quickly determined that the Boy couldn't care less about a puzzle this size. He was far more interested crashing Superman and Sharkboy into the piles of pieces rather than putting them together.
It soon became a duet between me and the Girl. And the drama began.
Dad, why do these pieces have to be soooo small?
These pieces won't fit. This is for grown ups, not kids.
This is too hard. I can't do this.
Dad, can I go draw?
And suddenly, this "family activity" became a solo effort. And because I am the way I am, this quiet activity suddenly become priority #1 in my life: to get this damn puzzle put together.
This included missing much of the Rose Bowl and Fiesta Bowl because this puzzle had to be solved before I went to bed. And you need to understand something: I simply do not miss the Rose Bowl.
But as the evening drained on, I started getting tired. I had to finally surrender to poor lighting and tired eyes. I gave up, but planned to get up early andcontinue finish the quest.
I couldn't sleep, thinking about that stupid puzzle. Why couldn't I figure out this simple, 300-piece kids' project? Maybe pieces were missing? Man, that would really stink.
So this morning when the Girl asked if she could please work on the puzzle, my answer was a resounding:
Yeah, I do have my issues. You gotta problem with it?
Now, everyone in this house needs to shut up so I can concentrate...
And there is a major problem with not getting outside to burn all that energy. Most folks refer to it as "cabin fever."
It is easy for cabin fever to infect everyone when we are all cooped up in the house, so I had the brainstormingly-fantastic New Years Day idea of doing a puzzle. A fun, family activity. Teamwork! Problem solving! Something to keep our minds occupied during these long, cold months.
So I selected one of the Girl's puzzles which she got for her birthday last year. It is a fair challenge for her, 300 pieces. The plan was after putting this one together, we'd graduate to the big boy puzzles... like, 1,000 pieces! Woo-hoo!
It soon became a duet between me and the Girl. And the drama began.
Dad, why do these pieces have to be soooo small?
These pieces won't fit. This is for grown ups, not kids.
This is too hard. I can't do this.
Dad, can I go draw?
And suddenly, this "family activity" became a solo effort. And because I am the way I am, this quiet activity suddenly become priority #1 in my life: to get this damn puzzle put together.
This included missing much of the Rose Bowl and Fiesta Bowl because this puzzle had to be solved before I went to bed. And you need to understand something: I simply do not miss the Rose Bowl.
Brutally honest self analysis: I do have an obsessive/compulsive goal-oriented side of me which can be very, very disturbing to those around me, including myself.
But as the evening drained on, I started getting tired. I had to finally surrender to poor lighting and tired eyes. I gave up, but planned to get up early and
I couldn't sleep, thinking about that stupid puzzle. Why couldn't I figure out this simple, 300-piece kids' project? Maybe pieces were missing? Man, that would really stink.
So this morning when the Girl asked if she could please work on the puzzle, my answer was a resounding:
NO!
That's my puzzle. Keep your grubby little paws off it.
Yeah, I do have my issues. You gotta problem with it?
Now, everyone in this house needs to shut up so I can concentrate...
