Telling Time (Aidan-Style)

It's the first day of 2009, and it's only fitting that the first post of this new year falls right into the category of "time," a metaphor so aptly used during this season. And, also quite fitting (and much-needed), we start off the year with a laugh.

Aidan, as we all know, is extremely routine-oriented. The more scheduled his day, the happier he is. Now that he is in the midst of his Christmas break, I'm thankful to say that he is doing better than I thought, coming up with his own schedules and time-markers to get through each day. It works for him, and subsequently for all of us.

One of his fail-proof time-markers is TV time -- quite limited in our house, which makes the marker even more substantial. He knows not to reach for the remote until the clock strikes 7:00 a.m., and he knows when he has to turn it off. The same goes for the afternoon -- at 5:00 p.m. sharp all activity ceases, that sacred hour when "Ruff Ruffman" enters our living room. You can tell when Aidan is having a bit of difficulty with his free time when he starts asking 10 or 15 minutes before that token hour, "When is it TV time?" The earlier the countdown, the more I figure he's bored with coming up with his own stuff to do.

This afternoon I decided to put aside the tasks that had piled up -- some sewing, some cleaning up -- and I wanted to focus on the kids. I pulled a few "new" games out of the basement, and for about a half hour we played (or rather, Aidan and I played while Grace complained) an old memory game called "Snapshot" that I loved playing as a child. Aidan's photographic memory blew me away -- he's definitely my boy.

Around 4:30 p.m. I knew I had to tackle their bedroom and change their sheets, a household task I do not look forward to. Changing sheets on a bunk bed is not easy, not fun, but I couldn't put it off any longer. Wrangling and wrestling with sheets in tight places is hard enough; dealing with the congregation of stuffed animals on Grace's bed and the task of rearranging said souls thereafter takes even longer than re-sheeting. It's an ordeal, to say the least. I told the kids to find something to play with in the meantime, and they went "camping" in the living room with the temporarily discarded blankets and animals.

Later on, as I was finishing up, I asked Aidan if he wanted to play with a certain toy that I wouldn't mind getting out for him. He politely declined, with a very specific reason:

"I can't play with that now, Mommy. It's in the Fifties of Four."

Ummmm ... the what in the what?

"The Fifties of Four."

I think I stared at him blankly a little too long, quite sure that he was correct in whatever he was trying to say (as usual), but equally quite sure that I had no idea what he was talking about.

"You know, Mommy. It's almost TV time."

The Fifties of Four.
Less Than Ten Minutes to Five P.M.
Almost TV Time.

What a way to tell time!
For a boy who struggles a bit in the world of imagination, that sure was creative.