Tea for a Two Year Old

There are only so many cute grandchild stories that people can listen to graciously, and I'm pretty sure I push the boundaries of that graciousness from time to time, but this is so much more than a story about an adorable little boy.  It's a story about an adorable little boy teaching his Oma a lesson in using resources creatively, following a passion with disregard for the opinion of anyone else, and immersing the senses in what brings joy.  Here we go.

Asaka likes to come down to the laundry room with me to sort clothes, load the machines, and move baskets around, although his work, of course, is to jump on the sorted clothes, push buttons and twist dials at random and play race cars with the baskets.  Another of his delights during laundry time is to pull out the boxes of tea that I keep under the microwave.  He enjoys taking the teabags out of the boxes, sorting them, and choosing one for me to brew.  Well, a few days ago he decided to expand on that game and asked me for a basket.  Into the basket went all of the tea bags - 4 big boxes worth.  That's fine, no problem, but when he asked to take them upstairs to his work table so he could do a project, I began to suspect we were in for an altogether new activity.  My Montessori heart told me  to watch, provide what he needs, and see what happens.

He took the basket of teabags right over to his table, clearly having a specific idea in mind.  He fetched his scissors from his supply drawer, got a bowl from the kitchen cabinet, and set to work opening the foil bag that housed one of the teabags.  His scissors are made especially for little hands and are spring-loaded for ease of use, but this task was still a bit outside his current skill level.  Not to worry.  He furrowed his brow, chewed on his tongue, and doubled down.  In a few minutes he had pried the foil bag open, snipped open the teabag, and emptied the contents into his bowl.  "Look Oma!"  he beamed, "I made some tea for you!"

The next bag gave him more trouble and after a while he got a little discouraged.  When he asked me for help I simply sat at his table with him, baby sister on my lap, and told him I would watch while he tried it again.  He did try it again.  He wrestled with that bag, snip by snip, until it, too, opened!  He dumped it out, and reached for another bag.

This is the point at which I had to make a decision.  Was I really going to let him "waste" so much of my tea?  Would I call it "waste" if he filled up a drawing pad of paper?  Would it be "waste" if I spent an equivalent amount of money on a new toy that he would likely play with only for a short time?  What would Maria Montessori do?  She would, I knew, stand back and let this small child proceed with this important work.  He had invented his work, he had gathered his materials, he had designed his procedure and was carrying it out with concentration and intentionality.  This is the stuff of great learners and thinkers.  Who am I to interfere?

Nearly two hours later - yes, two hours  later, he was finished.  Every teabag had been painstakingly cut open (scissor skills growing stronger with each one), and dumped into the bowl.  As he worked he cleaned up the papers and put them in the trash, running to this task with enthusiasm.  When he spilled on the floor he asked for the broom.  This was serious business and he was not about to make a mess of it.  The room was filled with the aroma of ginger and green tea, Sleepytime and chamomile.  And Asaka, that dear child, had the look of a little one who had just ascended to another plane of existence.  Calm, deep, joy.

Because the bowl was so full, the contents spilled easily when he put his hand in it, so I gave him a plastic box and a spoon so he could transfer some of it over (another classic Montessori task).  He then began to draw designs in the tea, shaking it clear, drawing more, so immersed in this new activity that he hardly noticed as I fed him bites of lunch.  He was exhausted, but still driven.  When he finally came up for air, I had to carry him up the stairs to naptime, and he was asleep in under 30 seconds.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has a book that's been around for quite a while now. I don't think I have a copy anymore, but I'd like to read it again. Here is a bit about it from Wikipedia:

In his seminal work, Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, Csíkszentmihályi outlines his theory that people are happiest when they are in a state of flow— a state of concentration or complete absorption with the activity at hand and the situation. It is a state in which people are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter. The idea of flow is identical to the feeling of being in the zone or in the groove. The flow state is an optimal state of intrinsic motivation, where the person is fully immersed in what he is doing. This is a feeling everyone has at times, characterized by a feeling of great absorption, engagement, fulfillment, and skill—and during which temporal concerns (time, food, ego-self, etc.) are typically ignored.

 Asaka has challenged me to spend more time finding my own "flow."  That's a tall order in these days of caring for small children, but a lesson like this is hard to ignore.  I'll probably need to begin by buying more tea, brewing a cup, and contemplating what will take me to that blissful place.