The Line-Up

In any home with more than one child, there's bound to be lines... to brush teeth, take a turn on the computer, use the shower, pour some cereal, get some attention...

Those lines are prevalent in our family; and the more kids, the longer and more frequent the lines. Since this is an uneventful occurrence (usually), it rarely captures my attention; well, other than when we are waiting for the hand-washing line before dinner to run it's course while the food is rapidly cooling down on the table because I've misjudged the time needed for five or so kids to wash up while chatting and trying to scare each other as they exit the bathroom.

This afternoon, while attempting to answer some e-mail messages on one computer, Eli was finishing up a research paper on the other computer and occasionally running some ideas by me. So besides my targeted task at hand, Eli was first in line.

In the midst of a conversation about topic sentences, two other children entered the 'computer room'. The first, who would become number two in line, interrupted because he needed to know if he could watch television (after being instructed to practice his violin before even thinking of asking about anything else) and was closely followed by his little sister, number three.

Samara was concerned because Evan had told her to clean up some Legos that she had left on the living room floor. She had come to tell me that she was still playing with the Legos - although at that very moment she seemed more intent on tattling than on constructive play. We briefly reviewed where and what they should each be doing - violin and Legos (or clean up) and also that it is expected that they will not interrupt conversations with non-emergency issues.

Back to the child in the number one position in the attention line... and a question about making a sentence more 'attention grabbing' (oh, the irony!) But hardly a thought crossed my mind as Sierra came racing into the room to announce that she had finished her session of violin practice and now needed a snack, but that the snack bowl was empty. In this case, which is hardly isolated, 'empty' meant that none of the few items left in the selection were to her liking. And suddenly number three child had returned for another turn since she had heard her sister's complaint and, having apparently deemed herself the tattler for the afternoon, reminded me that Sierra had already had a snack a few hours before.

Somewhere amongst the snack bowl discussion, the last child walked in the door from school and announced to me from the kitchen that he had a 'very important paper' for me to see right away. The need-for-attention line was quickly morphing into a small, unruly mob.

At that point it was obvious that Eli was going to have to go solo on his research paper, that my e-mail messages would go answered for another bit of time, and that the line-up for attention required first priority.