Although I like to refer to it as “fastidious,” I have come to realize that I have an obsessive personality.
It’s genetic.
My grandmother dries out the sink after she uses it, among other things.
I have found myself stopping teaching to fix a book on a shelf – it was so distracting to me.
I cannot allow any “numbers” to appear next to apps on my phone or iPad.
In fact, if you have a notice for 237 emails showing on your device, I may actually move to sit in another seat.
I have found that I have steered these obsessions into “socially acceptable” avenues: collecting books, watching both seasons of “The Crown” in about two days over winter break, taking college classes… no seriously, after my 90+ credit doctorate (I took extra classes in ed. leadership and literacy coaching), I got my superintendent’s letter of eligibility.
Then, my ESL certification.
Then, my National Writing Project fellowship.
Only my credit card and student loans are privy to the detriment of my obsessions.
Kieran seems to have inherited my habits.
He collects stuffed animals, K’nex, Legos, rocks, and Minecraft.
It used to be Skylanders and dinosaurs.
I have to convince him to donate unused toys before getting new ones.
We have had days where he doesn’t play video games until he finds 10 things to purge from his overcrowded room.
Sometimes he brings me a string.
I cannot even take favorite PJs and shirts away without him finding them and putting them back in his drawers.
He obsessively checks in on his video games: there are rewards to logging in each day.
I was similarly obsessed with DuoLingo (educational, so good, right?)
I understand how he feels and pray that he also turns these obsessions into “good.”