Ryan Trares
An exasperated sigh came from the living room, followed by, “I’m bored!”
Anthony was hanging upside down off the couch, his head almost touching the ground. All around him were the remains of the day’s playtime: action figures laying on their sides, pillows stacked together in the ruins of a fort, paper and markers left from an earlier art session.
Apparently, Anthony didn’t know what to do next. And I was brought back to a familiar summertime conundrum.
For all of the yearning and counting down I used to do waiting for school to be out, the reality was that a lot of times during the summer, there was a ton of boredom.
It’s not like there wasn’t anything to do. When I was a kid, summers were filled with baseball games and bike rides to the local pool. I had my daily and weekly chores, from cleaning up my room to emptying trash cans in the house to, once I was old enough, mowing and weed-eating the yard.
We did fun things, like go on family vacations and take trips to visit nearby relatives for weekend barbecues. The other kids in my neighborhood would play pick-up basketball or muck around in the creek behind our houses.
But I distinctly remember complaining about being bored.
My mom was not one to let us bum around the house watching TV, instead directing us outside to find something to entertain ourselves. So we did, even if we grumbled about it.
The truth of the matter was, when summer arrived, I suddenly found myself with a surplus of free time. After a school year when so many hours of the day were dictated by other responsibilities, I was on my own to fill my days.
And I suspect Anthony is realizing this truth for himself this summer.
Part of me wants to help him — to come up with some imaginative game or spontaneous activity to wash the boredom away. And we’ll do that sometimes, if we can.
Still, if we’re working, or busy with some home project, he has to do it himself. That brings the whining and the complaints and the dramatics.
I feel for him, I really do. But then I remember my own childhood. I remember feeling the same way, and how I was forced to use my imagination, and the resources available to an 8-year-old kid, to keep myself busy. It was good for me — a learning experience every time. Better yet, it made me appreciate the trips to the pool, or the picnics with friends, or the trips to the amusement park, all the more.
So Anthony will just have to roll with the boredom when it comes up. I’m confident he’ll figure it out — we did.
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal in Franklin. Send comments to [email protected].
