An appropriate piece of writing for this coming week (finally spring break!), despite the cool rainy weather predicted for this weekend. Sometimes, you absolutely do need to Spring from School. Heading to Vegas for the week with S. (see, I put it out there, you. Not buried in the more innocuous Heading to the Grand Canyon line.. though I really am excited about that part).
A short piece from the time-themed issue of Real Simple, a magazine which I recently subscribed to not knowing (really, it’s true!) that it was a woman’s magazine.
Sigh. All these admissions today.
Springing the Kids from School for the Day
by Jonathan Tropper
Every so often, I like to surprise my kids by taking them out of school. I don’t keep them home, because half the pleasure is in the act of liberation. I send them off to school, same as always, then show up an hour or two later and march them out like Moses and the Israelites.
I take them out to lunch and, over their toxic fast food of choice, tell them I missed them and that I just wanted to hang out with them. I ask them to name the best and worst things about school this year and what they’re most looking forward to. We are all partners in crime here, shirking our responsibilities as one, and it’s incredible how a small whiff of the illicit can open up new lines of communication. Every half hour or so, I check my watch and ask them what they’d be doing if they were in school. You’d be amazed at how many times you can do this before it gets old.
As lunch draws to a close, I affect an air of exaggerated nonchalance as I tell them to leave room for snacks at the movie. As I watch their faces light up, it’s easy to remember why I became a parent in the first place. I make sure to drive past school on our way to the multiplex, even if it’s not exactly on our way; the other direction, actually, but worth the detour. We turn up the radio and sing along loudly, because today we’re all too cool for school.
At the theater, they can buy whatever snacks they want. Today there are no rules. No penny-pinching, no sugar-monitoring. I hold their hands (my son is 11, and I know one day soon he won’t let me), pat their backs, refrain from correcting grammar or indulging in any form of parental instruction. My kids are not the only ones on break today.
Family life is built around routine. It has to be, to some extent. But the danger of routine is that it often becomes, well, routine, and we all run the risk of becoming part of the furniture. Torching the script every now and then shows my kids that I love them for the people who they are while at the same time pulling back the parental curtain to reveal the big kid pulling the strings. Something as quotidian as sharing the simple joy of an empty movie theater in the middle of the day can go a long way toward reminding parent and child alike that even though we’re all supposed to be someplace else, there’s no place we belong more.
Springing the Kids from School
An appropriate piece of writing for this coming week (finally spring break!), despite the cool rainy weather predicted for this weekend. Sometimes, you absolutely do need to Spring from School. Heading to Vegas for the week with S. (see, I put it out there, you. Not buried in the more innocuous Heading to the Grand Canyon line.. though I really am excited about that part).
A short piece from the time-themed issue of Real Simple, a magazine which I recently subscribed to not knowing (really, it’s true!) that it was a woman’s magazine.
Sigh. All these admissions today.
Springing the Kids from School for the Day
by Jonathan Tropper
Every so often, I like to surprise my kids by taking them out of school. I don’t keep them home, because half the pleasure is in the act of liberation. I send them off to school, same as always, then show up an hour or two later and march them out like Moses and the Israelites.
I take them out to lunch and, over their toxic fast food of choice, tell them I missed them and that I just wanted to hang out with them. I ask them to name the best and worst things about school this year and what they’re most looking forward to. We are all partners in crime here, shirking our responsibilities as one, and it’s incredible how a small whiff of the illicit can open up new lines of communication. Every half hour or so, I check my watch and ask them what they’d be doing if they were in school. You’d be amazed at how many times you can do this before it gets old.
As lunch draws to a close, I affect an air of exaggerated nonchalance as I tell them to leave room for snacks at the movie. As I watch their faces light up, it’s easy to remember why I became a parent in the first place. I make sure to drive past school on our way to the multiplex, even if it’s not exactly on our way; the other direction, actually, but worth the detour. We turn up the radio and sing along loudly, because today we’re all too cool for school.
At the theater, they can buy whatever snacks they want. Today there are no rules. No penny-pinching, no sugar-monitoring. I hold their hands (my son is 11, and I know one day soon he won’t let me), pat their backs, refrain from correcting grammar or indulging in any form of parental instruction. My kids are not the only ones on break today.
Family life is built around routine. It has to be, to some extent. But the danger of routine is that it often becomes, well, routine, and we all run the risk of becoming part of the furniture. Torching the script every now and then shows my kids that I love them for the people who they are while at the same time pulling back the parental curtain to reveal the big kid pulling the strings. Something as quotidian as sharing the simple joy of an empty movie theater in the middle of the day can go a long way toward reminding parent and child alike that even though we’re all supposed to be someplace else, there’s no place we belong more.