Notes On Fixing Things

Before encountering Lizette Greco's example, I never would have let a two-year-old sew. But a big, clunky quilting needle was just the thing for a heavily supervised chance for Z to "fix" her own crocheted doll, whose hat, which had been attached by a single piece of yarn, had broken free. Of course, although the size of the needle did help her get a good grip on it, the vigor with which she thrust it through the doll's head could easily have sent it through her hand. But I was busily supervising, jumping nearly out of my skin at each thrust and injecting myself into the situation for another "demonstration" that brought us considerably closer to our goal while still giving her the glory.

Z joyfully pointed out the knotted end of the yarn and declared it a pigtail, so it was only natural that we end our project with another pigtail. Hard to see in this picture, but the pigtails are gray.

* * *

Z is really into "fixing" things. For the past year or so I have tried to show her what had happened whenever a toy broke, and to discuss with her whether and how we might fix it, and she has decided that fixing things is a very interesting thing to do. Whenever she sees something broken around the house she shows it to me and offers a random suggestion on how it should be fixed. Since she currently believes that everything on the planet can be fixed with tape, glue, or string, she rarely gets opportunities to put her first-round suggestions to the test.

It all began with changing batteries. Z learned early on that some of her most cherished possessions live and die by those mysterious little energy drinks, so she has made identifying symptoms of fading vitality her specialty. Further, she has taken on the official role of battery installer; she knows how to follow verbal instructions about which end of which battery goes which way, and almost has the "spring-end first" thing down. She "helps" turn screwdrivers and often claims that things are broken simply because she wants to have something to fix.

This new interest in home maintenance inspired me to establish a special "fixing" drawer (part of one, anyway) in which I store items of hers that have broken or in some way need to be fixed or improved upon, as well as a few around-the-house things that are easy or interesting to fix. I actually get a little thrill now when something simple breaks because I get to think about how interested Z will be in fixing it. Some of these things actually make for great projects - easy to get in and out of, limited in duration by the nature of the task, somewhat predictable, educational and manipulative. What more could you ask from fifteen minutes with your daughter than to start with a broken toy and end with something she feels she has rescued from a fate worse than spent batteries?

There is a down side. Fixing something has gone from being need-driven (it can't wait any longer to be fixed without killing someone) to being interest-driven (problems which might kill us await solutions as other, more interesting problems are solved). I am not much of a handyman anyway, so I find this situation quite to my liking. One is work; the other is play. Turning a task which calls for six specialized tools and a pair of vise clamps into a celebration of wood glue and Scotch tape is shameful if it is work. If it is play, we call it being creative.