Well, on Thursday I saw Be leaning plywood pieces against the makeshift benches. He had a big project going on, complete with hammering things into place (see the green shovel? It's a hammer.) My first inclination was to say "Can you please find another place to do that because I really don't want the seedlings to get squished." But I didn't. I didn't because sometimes I trust the mysterious force that drives children's activities and curiosities more than I trust my own gut reactions. My gut told me that those planks and boards would squish the life out of the poor little seedlings. My brain told me that Be was deeply engaged in a creative and planning process and to inhibit it would inhibit whatever neural growth was happening as a result of the activity. Equally it would rob him of the efficacious feeling resulting from the completion of his task, whatever it was. So I bit my tongue. I practiced self-inhibition.
Twenty minutes or so later, Be asked me if there was any more plywood. "I'm not sure," I said. "I'll let you know if I see any. What's it for?" His response, calm and informing, almost made me cry.
"I'm building a wall so your flowers don't get squooshed."