A post that was almost never written
A change of plans that comes with extra veggies.
Hi everyone. This is Magda, and I’m not supposed to be here. Today was supposed to be the day I drove six hours to my son’s college, wedged him and all his stuff into my little sedan, and brought him home for the summer. But when I woke up today I saw a text from him, sent at 12:37am, asking if I could come Thursday instead, so he could show me the cool farmers market near campus.
So I’m going tomorrow.
Which is fine, because now I have more time to clear all of my yarn and books and coffee mugs out of my office before it turns back into my son’s bedroom. And to figure out the incomplete meal plan for the rest of the week. And to do all the work I was going to do tomorrow anyway, after my body recovered.
One of the most binary choices a parent has is whether to indulge a child’s last-minute asks. I’m always surprised by parents who impose rigidity on their kids. “Make a plan and stick with it,” they say, “because changing things at the last minute tells people you don’t value their time.”
I guess I can appreciate that to a point, but I’ve always felt fine fulfilling these last-minute asks for my kids when I can (which, thankfully, is pretty often). And for a long time, it seemed like it didn’t matter much. But then came this text, when I realized that my kid knows I like farmers markets and wants to show me something he knows I'd like, and he isn't afraid to ask to change plans because it was always OK to ask. So being open to possibility has given me kids who are also open to possibility.
We’re going to have a lot to talk about on this trip tomorrow, including how our alma maters are handling federal harassment. So far, our son’s college president has held firm (like that badass governor of Maine, Janet Mills), but I’m not unhappy to see Michigan’s president leave for Gainesville. It will take UMich decades to recover from his rolling over while Harvard chose to stand and fight. It's still great to be a Michigan Wolverine, and I hope the door hits him right in the ass on his way south.