I have a problem. Actually, a 750 piece problem. See, I bought the kids a puzzle for the holidays. With a two week break from school, I figured we would a) have loads of time for family bonding around a puzzle and b) need something to keep the kids from rotting their brains out on t.v. all day long. So, I bought a puzzle. This was not an entirely crazy idea. Caitlin and Ryan were with me when we bought the puzzle and they loved all the Disney characters. And this idea of mine was not without precedence. The past summer cousins had come to visit and a 500 piece puzzle had been a central gathering place. It was set up on the dining room table and as people walked by, they would stop for a few moments to search for a missing puzzle piece and slowly other family members would join them. Except. This time I did not notice the number of pieces. I was lulled into the cute Disney characters and the kids excitement. SEVEN HUNDRED and FIFTY. If any of you are puzzle people, you are shaking your heads and laughing at me. The difference between 500 pieces and 750 is tremendous. So tremendous, that there is exactly one person who is working on the puzzle... ME. I am completely suckered into the thing. Except. That dinner still needs to be made, laundry is waiting, and my kids need baths. It's not good. All I want to do is finish the darn puzzle. It taunts me. It mocks my intelligence. Stimulating and challenging my brain is my insurance against early onset dementia. Caitlin stops by the dining room table to ask when I will be done with my puzzle. I wish I knew. I sigh and finally start dumping pieces into the box. Maybe early onset dementia isn't as bad as everyone says.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Why I Can't Get Anything Done...
I have a problem. Actually, a 750 piece problem. See, I bought the kids a puzzle for the holidays. With a two week break from school, I figured we would a) have loads of time for family bonding around a puzzle and b) need something to keep the kids from rotting their brains out on t.v. all day long. So, I bought a puzzle. This was not an entirely crazy idea. Caitlin and Ryan were with me when we bought the puzzle and they loved all the Disney characters. And this idea of mine was not without precedence. The past summer cousins had come to visit and a 500 piece puzzle had been a central gathering place. It was set up on the dining room table and as people walked by, they would stop for a few moments to search for a missing puzzle piece and slowly other family members would join them. Except. This time I did not notice the number of pieces. I was lulled into the cute Disney characters and the kids excitement. SEVEN HUNDRED and FIFTY. If any of you are puzzle people, you are shaking your heads and laughing at me. The difference between 500 pieces and 750 is tremendous. So tremendous, that there is exactly one person who is working on the puzzle... ME. I am completely suckered into the thing. Except. That dinner still needs to be made, laundry is waiting, and my kids need baths. It's not good. All I want to do is finish the darn puzzle. It taunts me. It mocks my intelligence. Stimulating and challenging my brain is my insurance against early onset dementia. Caitlin stops by the dining room table to ask when I will be done with my puzzle. I wish I knew. I sigh and finally start dumping pieces into the box. Maybe early onset dementia isn't as bad as everyone says.
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I should send Emma Claire and Malea to your home to help out. They used to do puzzles upside down (ie no picture side, only the brown cardboard showing...amazing I know, but really boring) They have not done this in a while, not sure why? Maybe because there are no puzzles left to do in our house. We sort have forgot about this amazing talent and moved on to other activities. I see a puzzle or two showing up in our Easter baskets this year. Catey
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