Monotony Disproven 1/16/2022

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

I came into this with a plan.  I really did.  I had already figured what I was going to write about this week. I was pleased with myself for not being the professional procrastinator that I am and waiting until later than I should to come up with a topic.  I was going to write about monotony. Now I know that sounds like a ridiculous subject, but I was genuinely going to take an in depth look at it. I was bemoaning my routine the other day and really began to evaluate what my displeasure was truly about.  I had made notes and thought I had a direction in which this piece was going.  Then, in a stroke of irony that I would say sits somewhere between hilarious and obnoxious, my monotony got thrown right out of the window.  Suddenly I am home from work attempting to instruct a kindergartener in her studies for the next several days.  If I was going to explore the annals of monotony well, life as it would have it, has told me that this week would not be the time.  So, I guess that will teach me to be timely in choosing a topic.  Instead of delving into the depths of what I have decided is probably, at least in my case, a very ungrateful plague, I am going to take a far more lighthearted route.  I am going to give you a few moments that have blossomed from the unexpected break in the boredom.

The interest in my recent relation of some of the extravagant tales of my child seemed to prove well received so, since she and I have been spending even more time together than usual, I thought I would share with you some of the latest accounts of which I have been so fortunate to enjoy.  Where to begin is the question I must first pose to myself.  Oh, I know. Let me set the scene.  My daughter had a gift card that she spent on an ice cream play set. It has magnetic wooden cones that you can scoop different flavors upon.  She has greatly enjoyed playing with this set.  Other than drawing attention to her hesitancy in willingness to share her chocolate scoop, her toy choice has been a positive one.  It was playing with this toy that my child became rather reflective. She sighed and said, “I love ice cream. It brings back so many good memberies”.  Yes, that is how she says memories which I see her reasoning for based on the word “remember”.  When I asked her about her “memberies” she proceeded to produce quite the story. She said that she loved ice cream because it reminded her of her friend. According to her, this friend had already died and been buried, and she and her friends would go to where he was buried and think of ice cream.  I asked if he liked ice cream hence the reminder. No, she informed me that he sold ice cream and that now every time she sees ice cream it brings back fond memberies of him. Oh. Of course it does. Fear not. No monotony here.

Don’t think the fascinating narratives end here though.  Now, you should probably take into consideration that my child, like her mother, is a bit too efficient at procrastination and distraction.  So, as we were trying desperately to complete, in my opinion ridiculously excessive, pages of kindergarten work in the home it was proving quite the production to keep her five-year-old mind focused on the task at hand. And when her judgement has decided said task at hand is too tedious to continue, the massive imagination takes over.  While we were working, she told me of her children. She related to me that she didn’t actually have them out of her tummy, but she had to adopt them because their parents died in a shipwreck. And yes, I do realize that for whatever reason that my child’s stories often include death, but she isn’t afraid of it but grasps it is a part of life and I suppose she must think it adds authenticity to her anecdotes. Anyway, in a very matter of fact manner I was told that her children cannot in fact go to school though. They live on a mountain top where there are no schools.  I was told there was even a sign on this mountain top where she and her children lived that said, “There is no school in this place that you are going to live” and hence she had to homeschool her children.  This is what she felt needed to relate rather than continue her schoolwork.  Which yes, I get it.  Spinning a good yarn is, in my opinion and apparently hers too, far more entertaining than counting and practicing letter writing. 

It is her deadpan and pragmatic delivery that gives most of the things that spill from my daughters lips such intrigue. For instance, just a few short days ago she was picking daffodils. She buries her nose in the buttery petals and casually pronounces “Mmm, pungent.”  We all had a good laugh at that one.  In playing hide and seek that same day, she didn’t care for the direction her seekers were facing as she was preparing to hide and told us “Um excuse me, my hiding place it that way so y’all need to face elsewhere,” with a tone that I can only describe as condescending disdain.  Her vocabulary, her inflection, all of it combines to make her companionship and conversation an invaluable resource.  It seems very hard to believe that I could have ever thought my life was monotonous.  Certainly not with the great mistress of the loom filled with the most impeccable yarns!