A thing of purpose


When the kids were little I would sit on the floor with them and play with the Duplo. We’d build some houses and shops, make some cars. After a while, they would wander off and look at a book, or go for a wee. But I’d still be there, on the floor, building. 


“What are you making?” they would ask. 

“A thing of purpose” I would reply. 


Or “What’s that?” 

“A thing of purpose”


Or “That’s big, what is it?”

“A thing of purpose”


It really wasn’t anything much. Maybe I was making high towers, or building by color sorted blocks, or balancing something inherently unstable to see how big it would be before it fell. 


None of that was my purpose. 


My purpose was to model behaviours, model ideas, model construction possibilities. 

My purpose was to be with my children.

If they knocked it over, it didn’t matter. If they needed some bricks for their house, that was fine. I wasn’t there to achieve anything with the bricks. I wasn’t making something important. I wasn’t there to win.