A is for Advent: A Three-Year-Old's Perspective

G is for Guidance

Whether a person prefers to be a team player or a lone wolf depends entirely on the company. Timmy rarely tolerates Daniel's participation in assembling his puzzles, but he's quite the co-operative leader for the two other children kneeling on the floor with him, working at assembling the pieces of a wooden wharenui puzzle.

The boy just watches, for the most part, but Timmy's not working with him at the moment. He's giving guided instruction to the girl currently trying to fit a piece of maihi at the top of the meeting house.

"Turn't around," he coaxes. The girl slowly pivots the piece. "Around... Around..." The piece slots into place with a gentle click. "Yes," Timmy says. "Now—"

He's cut off in surprise as the girl quickly reaches across the board to fetch a piece of puzzle from between his knees. Timmy's startled—he didn't even realise he was almost sitting on one—but he rallies and prepares to continue his teaching.

"Okay, now, that goes..." His voice trails away as he looks across the board, trying to match the shape to an empty space. The girl finds it first, and slots it neatly in. "Yes, that's right," he says.

She doesn't have to know that he hadn't known first.

Timmy holds the tekoteko piece in one hand, where he rolls it slowly. The piece with the face on it. He can see where it goes—it would be the easiest to place—but he wants to hang onto it. He likes the face. It's the nicest piece. If he puts it in the puzzle now, one of the other kids might take it. Daniel would, if he were here.

The boy that had been watching, slowly picks up a piece. He gently rotates it in his hands, looking at the board as though figuring out where to place it. But he doesn't even know what piece he has. He hasn't looked at it.

The boy can't do this puzzle, Timmy suspects. That's okay. The boy is good at watching, because he doesn't try to jam pieces in the wrong places like Daniel does. He doesn't take out the pieces that have already been placed, either, like Daniel does. There are plenty of other wharenui pieces still to be placed, so Timmy lets the boy hold onto that one.

Timmy looks up and notices Mum and Dad are there. Mum has Daniel on her hip, and Dad has both their backpacks, so it must be time to go. But he hasn't finished the wharenui. He can't go yet.

"It's time to go home, Timmy," Mum says. As though he hasn't figured that out.

"Just soon, 'kay?" Timmy says. He lifts his voice at the end, and uses a soft expression with a smile and raised brows—an expression he's seen Mum using when she asks him to do something he doesn't want to do. "Just go home after is finished, kay?"

"Okay," Mum says. She looks like she might laugh. "Quickly then."

He doesn't move faster. It's not necessary. Mum had said Okay. The rest was just...more words.

The girl of the group has been continuing the puzzle, and when he returns his attention to it Timmy finds there's not much left to do.

He nods approvingly as she continues.

There's one space left, now. At the very top of the roof.

Timmy places the tekoteko in it, and it clicks into place. It's the nicest piece.

"All finish, Mummy!" Timmy says, and he's grinning. "Look!" He holds it up to face Mum. "Look! I'm all finish!"

"Well done," says Mum. Timmy knew she'd say that. Only that. But he's happy with it.

"Okay," he says. He stands up and brushes invisible dirt from his legs. It's what people do after they've been working hard. "Go home, now." He moves ahead of Mum and Dad, to the gate.

He's quite the co-operative leader for the two grownups following him.