Me, My Son and A Coffee Pot
Please raise your hand if you have tweenage son or daughter. It's a badge of honor so please wear it with pride.
In my case I have this loving, sensitive, goofy tweenage son that manages to put himself in the most awkward of positions without even trying, as though he is seemingly predestined to suffer through the simplest of tasks. Some of this is of his own making, a series of choices made - usually without permission he engages a project that will likely end with paint covered furniture, or glue saturated floors - with the best of intentions he puts both hands on his forehead flabbergasted at the results he got with little to no effort.
That was the case a few days ago when he decided he'd heard me request he perform a task. My words were exact, and succinct. A simple direction - or rather a request that should have had zero consequences for all parties involved, but his mind tends to wander in the middle of a conversation, or he simply never switches gears from his original thought. This is a tweenage behavior as I'm sure my fellow parental units can understand. His hormones haven't caught up to his brain which has effected his hearing and his ability to focus. His decision making skills have suffered as a result.
"Please put the coffee in the pantry." I said.
"I got it sir." Was his response.
It's a simple task right? We had gone grocery shopping and of course the rich black bounty was left sitting on the kitchen counter - which could not be risked. It would be unlawful to allow the full bodied nectar to be exposed to any kind of direct sunlight. I'm at the point in my life that the beauty of my day is based on little joys - and my coffee is one of them.
I left the premises to continue about my weekend tasks while he began solving the dilemma he'd created in his own mind. He began to putter about the kitchen talking to himself, all the while apparently trying to remember step by step actions that he'd never been asked to perform but felt it his duty to know how to perform these actions. He would later describe in detail to me the anxiety he felt because he was unsure which step came first.
He heard me say "Please put on a pot of coffee." Honest mistake I guess - but he never followed up with a question - he never thought to say - "but Dad, I've never made coffee before." He never rationalized that his father has never given him a task to complete without explicit instructions, possibly on the job training to ensure he understands how the task should be completed, and therefore he may have misheard me.
So begins the saga I like to call "Coffee Grounds - The Incredible Journey".
It begins with my son trying to fill our drip coffee pot with water which resulted in a great portion of water on the counter. Much like Bilbo Baggins this flood of water left him undeterred in his mission. He sallied forth removing the lid to the container of black gold only to find a foil seal underneath. As he tried to remove this seal his hands slipped and he watched on as the precious grounds fell as if in slow motion down to the floor bouncing only once and spilling out its rich aroma across the kitchen. Still undeterred he pushed forward with his quest and filled the filter bowl to the brim to ensure the strength and fortitude of the coffee to be worthy of his father.
He began the task of cleaning up the mess, forgetting the water on the counter as he swept the grounds into a pile on the floor. The coffee brewing at this point, he has a proud feeling - as he discards the deflowered grounds into the trash bin the brew cycle ends and he pours the dark abyss into two cups. I was unaware of what had just transpired - but was thankful when he delivered the cup of coffee to my hand there by completing his quest he waited with baited breath.
When I smelled aroma, I was instantly drawn to to drink of her, to be lost in her caffeinated glory. As I took that first sip, I recall feeling overwhelmed with joy - as I completed that first sip, I recall wondering what had just happened in my mouth. With the patience of Job I sat the cup on the table and began sweeping my tongue from left to right in my mouth collecting large quantities of grounds.
His nervous voice broke my concentration. "Do you like it?" Instantly I new he'd made it. I grinned and shook my head to say yes. He smiled and walked off. Later I would discover he left to deliver his mothers coffee.
Walking swiftly to the trash bin I spit out the waste. The spilled grounds were staring back at me. Never has our trash bin smelled so good but looked so sinful. I turned to the counter where the pot sat surrounded in water, the grounds were so plentiful you could see them floating in the deep black liquid. I opened the top of the drip coffee maker to discover that I was incorrect in my assumption that he'd forgotten to add a filter - but in his quest to make the spoon stand up in my cup he'd overwhelmed the filter with grounds.
Here in lies a choice. I could warn my wife of the gift she was about to receive or I could wait patiently for her to unwrap and enjoy the gift. I chose to wait. It was only 2 minutes later when she burst into the kitchen to spit out the thick grounds that had invaded her lips. The look on her face was unforgettable - her response when I explained what happened was even more glorious. She laughed. I laughed. We laughed together.
I would later call my son to the kitchen to discuss with him why he chose to make a pot of coffee. This part of the story has been covered - but the most important lesson here isn't that he needs to learn to listen - it's that his mother and I said "Thank you."
We thanked him for his effort - misplaced, and incorrect as it may have been he had the sweetest of intentions. As parents we often tell our kids they have tasks to complete but often we forget to be thankful. Gratitude can be a great motivator.
He wasn't let completely off the hook - he had some clean up to assist with and of course there was the ever popular "Listening is a skill" discussion - which of course was delivered with a measure of love and authority.
Be thankful for your kids - laugh at your kids and with your kids - just don't let them make the coffee.
Go forth and drink your coffee responsibly. http://bit.ly/2n5jO7P
In my case I have this loving, sensitive, goofy tweenage son that manages to put himself in the most awkward of positions without even trying, as though he is seemingly predestined to suffer through the simplest of tasks. Some of this is of his own making, a series of choices made - usually without permission he engages a project that will likely end with paint covered furniture, or glue saturated floors - with the best of intentions he puts both hands on his forehead flabbergasted at the results he got with little to no effort.
That was the case a few days ago when he decided he'd heard me request he perform a task. My words were exact, and succinct. A simple direction - or rather a request that should have had zero consequences for all parties involved, but his mind tends to wander in the middle of a conversation, or he simply never switches gears from his original thought. This is a tweenage behavior as I'm sure my fellow parental units can understand. His hormones haven't caught up to his brain which has effected his hearing and his ability to focus. His decision making skills have suffered as a result.
"Please put the coffee in the pantry." I said.
"I got it sir." Was his response.
It's a simple task right? We had gone grocery shopping and of course the rich black bounty was left sitting on the kitchen counter - which could not be risked. It would be unlawful to allow the full bodied nectar to be exposed to any kind of direct sunlight. I'm at the point in my life that the beauty of my day is based on little joys - and my coffee is one of them.
I left the premises to continue about my weekend tasks while he began solving the dilemma he'd created in his own mind. He began to putter about the kitchen talking to himself, all the while apparently trying to remember step by step actions that he'd never been asked to perform but felt it his duty to know how to perform these actions. He would later describe in detail to me the anxiety he felt because he was unsure which step came first.
He heard me say "Please put on a pot of coffee." Honest mistake I guess - but he never followed up with a question - he never thought to say - "but Dad, I've never made coffee before." He never rationalized that his father has never given him a task to complete without explicit instructions, possibly on the job training to ensure he understands how the task should be completed, and therefore he may have misheard me.
So begins the saga I like to call "Coffee Grounds - The Incredible Journey".
It begins with my son trying to fill our drip coffee pot with water which resulted in a great portion of water on the counter. Much like Bilbo Baggins this flood of water left him undeterred in his mission. He sallied forth removing the lid to the container of black gold only to find a foil seal underneath. As he tried to remove this seal his hands slipped and he watched on as the precious grounds fell as if in slow motion down to the floor bouncing only once and spilling out its rich aroma across the kitchen. Still undeterred he pushed forward with his quest and filled the filter bowl to the brim to ensure the strength and fortitude of the coffee to be worthy of his father.
He began the task of cleaning up the mess, forgetting the water on the counter as he swept the grounds into a pile on the floor. The coffee brewing at this point, he has a proud feeling - as he discards the deflowered grounds into the trash bin the brew cycle ends and he pours the dark abyss into two cups. I was unaware of what had just transpired - but was thankful when he delivered the cup of coffee to my hand there by completing his quest he waited with baited breath.
When I smelled aroma, I was instantly drawn to to drink of her, to be lost in her caffeinated glory. As I took that first sip, I recall feeling overwhelmed with joy - as I completed that first sip, I recall wondering what had just happened in my mouth. With the patience of Job I sat the cup on the table and began sweeping my tongue from left to right in my mouth collecting large quantities of grounds.
His nervous voice broke my concentration. "Do you like it?" Instantly I new he'd made it. I grinned and shook my head to say yes. He smiled and walked off. Later I would discover he left to deliver his mothers coffee.
Walking swiftly to the trash bin I spit out the waste. The spilled grounds were staring back at me. Never has our trash bin smelled so good but looked so sinful. I turned to the counter where the pot sat surrounded in water, the grounds were so plentiful you could see them floating in the deep black liquid. I opened the top of the drip coffee maker to discover that I was incorrect in my assumption that he'd forgotten to add a filter - but in his quest to make the spoon stand up in my cup he'd overwhelmed the filter with grounds.
Here in lies a choice. I could warn my wife of the gift she was about to receive or I could wait patiently for her to unwrap and enjoy the gift. I chose to wait. It was only 2 minutes later when she burst into the kitchen to spit out the thick grounds that had invaded her lips. The look on her face was unforgettable - her response when I explained what happened was even more glorious. She laughed. I laughed. We laughed together.
I would later call my son to the kitchen to discuss with him why he chose to make a pot of coffee. This part of the story has been covered - but the most important lesson here isn't that he needs to learn to listen - it's that his mother and I said "Thank you."
We thanked him for his effort - misplaced, and incorrect as it may have been he had the sweetest of intentions. As parents we often tell our kids they have tasks to complete but often we forget to be thankful. Gratitude can be a great motivator.
He wasn't let completely off the hook - he had some clean up to assist with and of course there was the ever popular "Listening is a skill" discussion - which of course was delivered with a measure of love and authority.
Be thankful for your kids - laugh at your kids and with your kids - just don't let them make the coffee.
Go forth and drink your coffee responsibly. http://bit.ly/2n5jO7P
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