Ben and I did the same puzzle. It was fun the first time, and even the second. I was surprised when he asked to do it a third time. Then the next day he took it all apart and shook the five hundred pieces in the box. He smiled, like a retiree at a raffle about to pull the winning ticket.
We did it again.
It occured to me that the completed puzzle was not necessarily the main event for Ben. I slowed down, rather than rushed. I remembered tricky pieces that had fooled me before, with their pretense of orange fur that is actually the edge of a flower. I noticed that Ben was facile with the elephant section, and perhaps that felt good to him. For people with autism, pieces that behave are comforting.
I thought about pithy sayings like "be present" and tried it on for size. Granted, responsibility is more of a side gig for Ben, than it has been for John and me. Then again, what has Benjamin discovered about pleasant ways to spend an afternoon?
The repetition that shows up in my routine can sometimes feel monotonous. Wipe the same counter. Clear the same dishes. Fill the tank. Warm up pasta for the umpteenth supper.
Perhaps it is not a waste after all. Plus there is the real possibility that he will suggest that we fit it tomorrow.
