Doing paperwork

In case I was ever likely to forget that my kids watch my every move and model themselves after me in the most unexpected ways, my youngest son has created his own office.

Actually, he's created two offices. One is downstairs in the family room, where he's taken the built-in counter beside the fireplace and outfitted it with a stool, an old computer keyboard, grandma's discarded flip-phone, a binder of paper, a pile of pens, and a ruler. His other office is upstairs in the room with my printing equipment, where he's established possession of the radiator cover and laid out a plastic phone-radio combination, another old computer keyboard (where does he get these things?), a magnifying glass, and a business card holder with cards taken from every store he visits.

“Why,” I asked him, when I discovered his addition to my printshop, “do you need another office?”

“To do my paperwork,” he told me. He gave a theatrical sigh.  “There's always more paperwork,” he said.  His lisp made it sound like, “Theys aways mo pape-eh-wook.”

I tried to keep a straight face. “What paperwork do you do?” I asked.

“Letters,” he said. “And numbers. And pictures.”

“I see.  And what do you do with them.”

“I put them on the paper,” he said.  “Then I type them on the 'puter to make books.  Like Dad.”

Now, I'm not holding my breath that he'll have a career in the publishing industry (if there even is a publishing industry by the time he gets around to having a career), and I do worry about a kid that young internalizing the value of office work, but it was interesting to see myself reflected in his play. 

I spend as many hours cooking, cleaning, and gardening as I do publishing.  I also spend a good many hours reading to kids, playing with kids, taking kids places, and otherwise being a parent. Yet, at least in his understanding, my defining activity is doing paperwork and making books. 

I'm not sure how I feel about that yet, but it reminded me yet again of how profoundly influential our example as parents really is, even and especially when we don't intend it.

Luke Hill is a stay-at-home father of three boys, aged 10, eight, and four.  He has fathered, fostered, adopted, or provided a temporary home for kids anywhere between birth and university.  He has taught college courses, adoption seminars, camp groups, Sunday School classes, rugby teams, not to mention his own homeschooled kids.