Whatever Should I Do?
Shane has a completely different set of issues than Dylan. His personality is practically opposite that of his brother, and it astounds me when I see the differences – especially when Shane struggles to do something simple.
This morning, for the first time, Shane was supposed to practice his instrument for five minutes. He plays percussion, which includes a drum pad and a xylophone. It also includes a xylophone stand – which is basically a stick that screws into a hole under the xylophone.
So this morning, he hauled everything upstairs to set it up. Ten minutes later, I came in to his room to see the xylophone stand upright, with the xylophone balanced precariously on top of it. Shane was walking in circles – around and around and around and around – hanging onto the xylophone and laboriously screwing it to the stand.
He didn’t look up. He didn’t stop walking around the stand. He just said, “I’m dizzy.”
I waited. “Is it on yet?” I asked.
He stopped walking and jiggled the xylophone, which was barely hanging on. “Yes!” he said, and started playing it.
Shane doesn’t do anything the easy way. He also doesn’t respond quickly to problems. Yesterday, he opened a milk box at the playground and the milk poured out over the top, right down onto Shane’s shorts.
“Uh-oh,” he said. He didn’t do anything. If he were two years old, I’d expect him to sit there. But at nine years old, I expected a bit … more.
To be fair, he gets this pitiful trait from me. I’ve watched my husband solve problems like lightning. His brain is hard-wired for solutions. My brain is hard-wired to do nothing but wish there was a better way.
When Bill and I were first dating, he came over to my apartment. It was back in the days when ice cube trays were in fashion and, while I didn’t use ice, I had ice cubes at the ready for guests.
My freezer opened from right to left. When I moved in, the ice cube tray was on the right side, in the back corner. So when I refilled the tray, I put it on the right side, in the back corner. Of course, I filled the freezer with stuff, so getting to the ice cube tray became quite difficult. Frozen vegetables would tumble into its space when I took it out, and the door would start to close on me when I was putting the tray back.
Bill liked ice, so I used the last few cubes for him and refilled the tray with water. I moaned a bit about putting the tray back into the freezer – veggies falling, door in the way, blah blah blah. Bill opened the freezer and, with one arm, swiped all the frozen stuff over to the right side of the refrigerator – leaving a huge, empty space for the ice cube tray on the left side. I could open the freezer, plop in the tray, and all would be well.
I think that’s when I subconsciously decided to marry Bill. It has turned out to be a wonderful match – with my anally organized ways and ignorance, and his obscene disorganization and problem-solving skills.
Unfortunately for all of us, though, Shane seems to have acquired the ignorance gene. I’d better go check to see if he’s trying to unscrew the xylophone by walking in circles in the other direction.