Because I live in snow country, much of this winter has been spent shoveling large amounts of snow. Most days, I bundle myself and my son up in snowsuits, boots, and other snow apparel and brave the cold and snow.
Once outside, my son makes a beeline for the shovels. Yes, he has his own shovel --- a toddler-sized blue snow shovel that is perfect for his size and ability. While I'm still picking up my adult-sized green snow shovel, he's already begun making furrows in the snow on the front step a few feet from me.
Amused and not to be outdone by a one-year-old, I join him, lifting big shovelfulls of snow up and dumping them on a ever-growing pile in front of the house. Eagerly, my son shovels and scrapes with gusto, usually sending more snow into my freshly-cleared path. It's his way of helping. And much like when we wash the dishes, he seems to play much more than he works.
In his puffy snowsuit and stiff snowboots, when he walks he has a slight waddle similar to a penguin. He pats the snow, scooping it with his mittened hand, then bustles around with his shovel swirling more snow around. My busy worker bee.
Already, at his tender age, my son is showing a good work ethic, a willingness to participate in chores, and a team attitude. Even on days we won't be shoveling, when we exit the house he heads toward his shovel. That is how ingrained the concept of helping has become for him.
I wonder . . . as children, were we all such willing helpers?
My son is a reminder for me to joyfully engage in 'work', to make 'work' playful, and to participate in the events of life --- one shovelful at a time. *smile*
Once outside, my son makes a beeline for the shovels. Yes, he has his own shovel --- a toddler-sized blue snow shovel that is perfect for his size and ability. While I'm still picking up my adult-sized green snow shovel, he's already begun making furrows in the snow on the front step a few feet from me.
Amused and not to be outdone by a one-year-old, I join him, lifting big shovelfulls of snow up and dumping them on a ever-growing pile in front of the house. Eagerly, my son shovels and scrapes with gusto, usually sending more snow into my freshly-cleared path. It's his way of helping. And much like when we wash the dishes, he seems to play much more than he works.
In his puffy snowsuit and stiff snowboots, when he walks he has a slight waddle similar to a penguin. He pats the snow, scooping it with his mittened hand, then bustles around with his shovel swirling more snow around. My busy worker bee.
Already, at his tender age, my son is showing a good work ethic, a willingness to participate in chores, and a team attitude. Even on days we won't be shoveling, when we exit the house he heads toward his shovel. That is how ingrained the concept of helping has become for him.
I wonder . . . as children, were we all such willing helpers?
My son is a reminder for me to joyfully engage in 'work', to make 'work' playful, and to participate in the events of life --- one shovelful at a time. *smile*
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