WASHING SPOONS

‘You’re thinking what I’m thinking’, he looked over at me and smiled that devious smile of his, somehow sensing I was thinking the same.

‘That I need to wash my spoon?’, I looked at him and smiled back. I did, in fact, have the same exact thought. My son’s eyes grew wide with the satisfaction of our getting another spoonful of ice cream in the small glass cups. Ones that looked more like tealight candle holders than something to be used for food. Ones we collected from the tiramisu packages we occasionally found at Costco and now used mostly for orange juice, ice cream, or peanuts. Also blueberries.

He took out the Haagen Dazs vanilla bean ice cream which was nearly empty but enough for a spoonful each. With my clean spoon, I scooped out an equal amount into our cups. We both stirred the ice cream until it resembled soft serve. It was shortly after 21,00 and not a time for eating anything, especially something not so healthy and right after his in-person kickboxing class.

‘I like washing spoons’, he looked at me again with those big blue eyes. For a split second I almost gave in to his wanting to go get the cookies and cream container. Or more caramel cone. One extra spoonful wasn’t that much but it was enough of a treat for us after a difficult week.

He has been home all week due to the Spring Break holiday which lasts through Monday. I felt bad at not being able to take time off from work as I didn’t have any paid time available to take off. But I worked from home this past Monday, when maintenance came by to repair a leaking A/C pipe and had to cut a large hole in the ceiling, and am working from home the last two days of his break. At least we will be able to spend a longer time at the breakfast table. And we will be able to each lunch together.

The conversations we had this week centered around work and life. About being able to balance both in order to be satisfied. ‘What’s the point of living if all you do is work to pay bills?’ he would ask me. And again, we had the same thought. My frustration growing daily at the thought that life has little meaning at the moment, other than being able to work towards financial freedom, digging my way out like a prisoner digs his way out of with a spoon.

Though the freedom seems years away, I hope the struggles my son sees with me will motivate him to find his life’s purpose at an early age. I hope that he will be able to find that balance between work and family and not have to work endless hours like his father who has always valued money over family. I wish the same for my daughters, but the experiences they have at their father’s house are quite different so it will be interesting to see how this story of three siblings living in two diverse households turns out. Just as we are eager at washing spoons to dig into that container of our favourite ice cream, so should we be eager to dig into each new experience and opportunity with an open mind.