Handyman-in-training, 2, shows mum how it’s done

The flock of geese were flying,

A marvel to be seen, In the sky, so noisily, Majestic, in a skein. To take the time to stop, And admire a joyful sight, Reminds us then how nature,

Can make a dull day bright.

Molly pointed her son, Arthur, out to me in the playgroup. The two-year-old was focused on a plastic toolbox.

“The hammer at his feet was always his favourite way of ‘fixing’ things,” she told me. “There are pegs he can hammer into the holes in the box. But some of them have screw-threads on them. That confused him. Until he discovered the screwdriver. Now those pegs go in by a completely different method. Can you imagine the change in his thinking that took? Adults have a more difficult time making that change because they’ve had longer for the habits to get ingrained but it’s an important skill and one we can practise whether we are two or 62.”

I guess the point she was making is that the way we have always done a thing isn’t necessarily the only way. Ohhh, and not everything responds to a hammer!

Alison’s eight-year-old daughter, Ziva, brought a painting home from school. It was a blue vase on an orange tablecloth.

In the vase were a variety of colourful flowers, of the types only found in a child’s imagination.

It was a bright, happy picture and Alison decided it should definitely go on the kitchen wall. After pinning it up, she noticed that what she had taken as decoration on the top two-thirds of the vase were actually cracks.

“Why did you paint a cracked vase and not a pretty whole one?” she asked her daughter.

“To show that even a damaged thing can hold beauty inside,” Ziva replied.

“This eight-year-old spoke with all the authority and certainty of a spiritual guru,” Alison told me. “And she had painted a truth. Maybe we should listen to our children more often, and be willing to learn from how they see the world.”

Someone drove on to the wrong side of the road, at speed, and hit Tom’s car head-on. They spun off the dual carriageway into the fields on either side.

He told me this on a return visit to hospital to have some (thankfully) minor injuries checked on.

“I was angry when I realised it was going to happen. I was angry shouting at him afterwards. I was angry in the hospital.

“But...there was that moment, when I stumbled from the car, looked across at his mangled vehicle...when all I wanted in the world was just to see some sign of life.

“I dismissed it quickly at the time but the more I think about that moment – where there was no blame, no anger, where there was just care and hope – the more important it has become to me!”

The things that matter most in a crisis will surprise us.

I knew Elaine had been in hospital for an operation recently. So, when I saw her out and about, I asked how she was.

“Well, as soon as I was up to it,” she told me, “we all went out to celebrate me still being alive. We went to the sea front, bought ice-cream, accidentally fed the seagulls, and just had a great afternoon appreciating, well ... everything .”

“And, today?” I asked. “Well...” she waved around us. “We’re in a supermarket car park, and it’s early. So, I have mostly just waited in a supermarket checkout queue. It’s been wonderful!” “Waiting in a queue?”

She looked at me as if I ought to have known better. “A few days ago, there was a decent chance I might never wait in a queue again. And now I can. So, yes, it was wonderful!”

As lessons in appreciation go, that will do for me.

WRITE TO:

Francis Gay, The Sunday Post, Speirs View, 50 High Craighall Road, Glasgow G4 9UD or

EMAIL: francisgay@sundaypost.com