Breaking the Press

 

I had some experiences with my middle child over the weekend that strongly suggest  I need to focus less on conversations based around MCU Easter eggs and more on actual things.

We were removing a pretend telescope from the playset before the neighborhood wasps (not WASPS) had a chance to move in again for the season. The toy was gone, but now remained the screw that had secured it, just waiting to snag someone’s jacket or worse.

“We’ll need to go get the drill to screw that in.”  I suggested.

“Why don’t we just hammer it?”

“Well, it’s not a nail.”

“So? I have the hammer right here.”

“Yeah, but it’s a screw, so we need to screw it, not hammer it.”

“Can I use the drill?”

“Yes.”

Later that morning we were doing some low key pruning, and he asked to use the saw on an already downed branch.

“Sure thing.”

Instead of taking the tool and using it as a saw by, well, sawing, he instead tried to slice the branch in two I guess by just pressing down on it like some kind of martial arts warm up. (I’m still partially convinced this move was designed to mess with my head.) Regardless, I gave him a quick tutorial and the sawing commenced.

It’s my fault, thought. It’s not something they learn in swim practice.

Finally, this afternoon we were watching a debacle of a basketball game on TV, and I lamented the offense’s inability to break the defense’s press.

“Break the what?”

“Their press.”

“What’s a press?”

“It’s a…a defense…thing.”

In conclusion, if your kid doesn't know not to hammer screws or how to break a half-court press, that's on you. 

Nobody said parenting was easy.