Check the freezer.

I was half-drafting this post in my head for the past couple of days, wanting to frame it within a conversation about parenting.  Should I as a parent know exactly what my boys (ages 6 and almost 4) are doing every minute of the day?  Whether I should or should not, I do not.  I do not know exactly what they are doing every minute, but I know they are being kids.  Making messes.  Being curious.  Sneaking snacks.  Having fun.  Figuring things out.

How, specifically, they spent some of their time this past Saturday was not made known until Sunday morning when I was looking for Sweet P's other shoe.  I was only one shoe away from having all three kids ready for church.

I'll let Bub tell you the story.  It was his idea to write about it.

I handwrote the title as dictated by Bub.  I helped with spelling when asked.

As a personal narrative written by a kindergartener, here's a superior piece of writing.  NTB.  Readers can be pretty clear about what happened.  He wrapped his sister's shoe in a wet towel and placed that bundle in the freezer.  Were we to have a writing conference, however, I'd ask some key questions to flesh out the story ...

Why did you wrap your sister's shoe in a wet towel and freeze it?  

According to your story, your mom said "you're kidding," but how did she say it?  Was she laughing at the joke?  Frustrated?  Angry?  Completely surprised that a wet towel had been in her small, overcrowded freezer overnight without her noticing?

How funny did everything seem to you when your mom checked the freezer?

How long did it take for your sister's shoe to thaw?  Was it ruined?  Did she end up having to wear brand new shoes that did not fit her yet to church?

Were you punished or just given a talking to?

What did you learn?

We did not have a writing conference, though I repeated the why question this afternoon.  His answer on Sunday:  "I wanted to see if it would freeze."  His answer today, after finishing his story: "I wanted something to write about."  Someone's trying to play/please his English teacher mom.  Nice spin, Bub.

I was angry and frustrated, but not for long.  Bub started crying and saying, "Kids my age do crazy things, you know."  I do know.  I also know that part of my job as a mom is to give him the freedom to make some decisions and some mistakes.  His dad and I talked to him about thinking through the consequences of his actions.  What if Sweet P's shoe was ruined?  What if it had been her only pair and we did not have the funds to replace them?

What if his mom tried to pry open the folds of the frozen towel and cracked her left thumbnail into the nail bed, ripping skin, causing bleeding, requiring a bandaid, and making it painful even days later to press the home button on her phone or use the car clicker?  

For the record, the shoe was able to be released from the towel in the early afternoon.  It was still damp Monday morning.  It was not ruined.  

My left thumb still hurts a lot.  

All in all, I feel so pleased that he wanted to write the story that I'm over the whole thing.

How would you have reacted?  How much freedom do you give your kids?