On a mission to build a mission
I sat in the middle of the cafeteria, clutching a tan poster
board with a replica of the San Jose Mission perched on top of it,
in a sea of fourth graders. I wasn’t in the fourth grade and I
wasn’t having a flash back about being in the fourth grade. I just
didn’t trust The Boy to be able to maneuver this thing through the
mean halls of Antonio Del Buono Elementary.
On a mission to build a mission
I sat in the middle of the cafeteria, clutching a tan poster board with a replica of the San Jose Mission perched on top of it, in a sea of fourth graders. I wasn’t in the fourth grade and I wasn’t having a flash back about being in the fourth grade. I just didn’t trust The Boy to be able to maneuver this thing through the mean halls of Antonio Del Buono Elementary.
I…I mean… we had put way too much work into it to have it splintered across the parking lot in a seemingly slow-motion fall from an untied shoelace.
I made sure I wore shoes without laces and took small steps, but now I was safely seated on a tiny bench, surrounded by all the missions of California. There were missions of Styrofoam, missions of cardboard and missions of wood blocks. Mine…I mean…his was made of balsa wood. A thinly cut wood, that can supposedly be easily trimmed and cut to suit your purposes. That was not the case. My fingers still hurt from the death grip on the Exacto-knife. In all fairness, The Husband had done the majority of the cutting and detailing for the walls, but I had to cut out the tiny windows. The Boy was poised at the ready with wood glue and “mission white” paint once all of the cutting was done.
The Boy’s teacher had given her students a month to complete the project. That was more than enough time. In theory. I don’t think she factored in the full two and a half weeks of parental procrastination that goes into something like this. Then there is the full week of research done online and for the more adventurous, the library (we still have to return the books, pictures and floor plans). After that, there are the three days spent assembling the necessary tools and materials. Now, that you have done the research and bought about $30 worth of toothpicks for the fence, it’s time to get the necessary permits for construction, which are needed to secure the use of the kitchen table for the duration.
Naturally, mid-way through laying the foundation (gluing the fist building to the poster board), we realized that we needed accessories. What’s a mission without life-like American Indians and authentic trees dotting the tan paper landscape? What? I need one more piece of balsa wood for the last section of roofing on the bell tower and it’s T- minus 15 hours?
The clock ticked faster, like Jack Bauer’s on “24.” It’s 5:20:15 p.m. on Thursday night. A trip to Michael’s yields the roofing, and now across town at 5:59:45 p.m., Hobby World’s proprietor kindly lets me in to grab realistic mission stuff and even takes me to where I can find tiny barrels and sacks of grain.
Once back home, construction got back on schedule. The bell tower and its roof were completed as was the porch and main building and finally the placement of tiny American Indians. The glue dried and the masterpiece was taken out to my car for the morning drop off. We all slept soundly, happy in the knowledge that it was a job well done.
Back in the cafeteria, I see I am not the only mom not willing to let go of her spec project just yet and there are plenty of dads. We smile at each other and at our Mission de San Mom and Mission San Dedado.
