You’re a Psycho.
Or maybe you’re just looking for something?
Urgh, something’s wrong with Fredricke!
He’s psycho!
She cried as she stomped from the bedroom she shared with her brother to stand right in front of me. Her small frame blocking the Cornell fan struggling to keep the room and me… cool in the blazing afternoon heat.
Furrowing my brows in confusion I looked up. Huh? Why’s he psycho?
Please, be him just acting bonkers. Please. Please.
It was hot enough without me having to mediate and if it was simply my son acting a little bonkers I could sort him out without having to leave my seat or my book. But if it wasn’t… then I’d likely come back to my seat wetter than a dish sponge.
First he said he wanted to read so we went in to read, now he’s jumping around asking me to play. And HE KEEPS TAKING MY CHILDREN!
Ah… anything else wrong with him?
And, and, and he said he’s going to destroy my children!
I see. I see. I said in my most serious daddy voice. All dads need two skills. To be honest, with these two things you could probably fulfill most of your dad responsibilities.
It’s the serious daddy voice and the stern expression even when you feel like bursting out in laughter. Everyone grows older, not everyone grows up.
Anyway, after her rant, I drew on all the persuasion skills I learnt whilst learning copywriting and… told him what to do. I said okay, I’ll talk to him.
There’s nothing wrong with him… he’s just bored. He needs something to do.
I tilted my head and yelled Fredricke! The clothes in the balcony are dry, come get them down!
Okay! He chimed from the bedroom. Dashing out excited to finally have something to do.
There. He’s out go read in peace. He’ll be here with me. Sigh, thanks dad. FINALLY.
I patted myself on my back. Another job well done William. Maximum result. Minimum effort. No fallout. He’s happy to be doing something. She’s satisfied he’s out of her hair. Chores are done. What more could I ask for?
That was yesterday morning.
Now, as I sit here reflecting on what that hot, sweaty afternoon… it dawned on me that most of us are like Fredricke. In our search for meaning as we jump between work, play, and rest trying to fill up our time while waiting for the end, perhaps all we need is just some guidance. A push in the right direction.
Just like how I redirected my sons “psychotic” threat to destroy his sister’s children — by children she meant soft toys, and by destroy he meant take them off the shelf to play with them — to taking down the laundry, we all have an innate need to feel engaged or at least useful.
The simple act of redirecting his energy into a basic household chore was all it took to satisfy that urge. One moment he was a psycho, the next, he’s a productive member of our household.
Perhaps that’s a reminder.
Our relentless search for purpose and meaning in life doesn’t always require grand ambitions or lofty achievements. We don’t always have to change the world.
Sometimes, the humble acts of nurturing our skills, fulfilling obligations, even helping your neighbor is enough to fulfill our human need for meaning and impact.
So while his restlessness seemed like a childish nuisance, it might actually have been a reflection of something fundamental about the human spirit, we’re all just people looking for purpose.
The alternative to that is… we’re all psychos.
And humans are chaos incarnate.
