We live our lives by routines.
When we put the children to bed we read them a story, then we ask them how many hugs and kisses they want (they aren’t usually allowed more than a hundred, because it takes too long), then we ask if they want a song, then we say the Lord’s Prayer. We do these things, in this order, every night.
The boys like to eat bread for breakfast, not toast, except at the weekend, when they have cereal. They do not want cereal during the week and they do not want toast at the weekend.
I buy the paper on a Saturday, every Saturday. If we forget or go away, I feel strange all week. I read the main section on Saturday, the Family section on Sunday, the Review section during the week, the magazine goes in the bathroom and I read it during my baths, because I don’t like getting real books wet.
So, yeah, we like our routines in this house.
I use timetables for homeschooling, and I work through planned lessons, carefully coveting the National Curriculum.
But, sometimes, stuff happens. Sometimes we have a visitor, or someone throws a major strop, or something important gets broken. Then we can’t stick to the plan.
Sometimes that’s a great thing!
This week, my mum brought the boys some plastic cubes when she came by. And they made beautiful patterns:
This week, I left our wellington boots at a friend’s house by mistake. So, instead of our planned walk in the woods, we popped into a garden centre. The boys were really excited to choose seeds and plant them at home.
This week was half term and we got a call to ask if we’d like to spend a day with a friend and her children. We ignored our schedule for the day and went to the zoo.
Schedules are great and – most of the time – they keep us sane. But some of the best fun, and some of the most wonderful learning, comes when the schedule gets messed up and stuff just happens.