It used to be that, no matter how long, uninteresting, or down right terrible a book was, I would force myself to finish it before I could move on to something new. Then, somewhere along the way, I realized that life's too short to do things you don't want to do. That it's OK to switch things up.
Yesterday, I didn't really feel like going to gymnastics (especially after last week's debacle). I was sensing that Hudson felt the same way, but I thought that perhaps I was projecting my feelings onto him. I flipped through the parental Roladex of responsibility in my head... Do we go because it's good to have routine? Do we go because I paid for the whole month and it's not really that cheap? Do we go because following through on commitments is the right thing to do?
I called him over, looked him in the eye and said, "OK, Hud. Would you like to go to gymnastics today or would you like to go on an adventure outside with Momma instead?" It was not a fair question. He doesn't really know what gymnastics is, and I'd said the magic words: adventure and outside. He b-lined it to the mud room, grabbed his jacket and my boots and yelled: "MOMMA!"
Off we went.
When he feel asleep in the backpack just a few blocks from the house, I was relieved that we hadn't gone to class. He woke up about 30 minutes later and discovered that our adventure included a trip to the local bakery (one of three visit this weekend!). We shared a delicious—and totally inappropriate for breakfast—raspberry filled cupcake, walked down to the farm to check out the sheep (BAAAH!) and the pigs (MOOO!), and then headed over to the children's reading room at the town library. As it turns out, our change of plans resulted in 4 hours of quality hang time. So much better than a 30 minute drive each way sandwiching 45 minutes of toddler gymnastics (no matter how great the class would've been.) And I was proud that I was, in what I realize is a somewhat insignificant way, setting an example for my son to switch things up and do what makes him happy.