"Daddy, did someone fill your bucket up today?"
"What bucket?"
"You know, your bucket!"
"I don't know what bucket you're talking about. What does it look like?"
"I don't know what it looks like because it's invisible. We all have buckets. Mommy too. Mommy filled mine up today by playing dinosaurs and Yahtzee with me."
"Ohhhhh, is this something you learned in school today?"
Yup. My daughter had "Fill a Bucket : A Guide to Daily Happiness for Young Children" read to her at school.
A charming story about how people carry around invisible buckets with them. The buckets are filled by good thoughts and actions, and the buckets are emptied by mean thoughts or actions. And my daughter actually did seem to understand the abstract idea of good thoughts/actions filling up her (and other peoples) bucket.
But, as many parents of children with Aspergers Disorder knows, she also took the concept quite literally. Later that night we went to the library to find this very book. And my daughter whispered to me in embarrassment,
"Mommy, I know my bucket is in my hand, but why can't I feel it? And what colour is it? And how big? And I thought you told me that things couldn't really be invisible except for things like the wind. But I can feel the wind. I can't feel my bucket. Can you feel yours? And what does it fill up with?"
I explained that the bucket was another way of saying happiness. That "filling up someone's bucket" was another way to say that you were making them happy. Well. She didn't understand why someone wouldn't just say, "making someone happy." Why bother with all the bucket nonsense? Why not just say what you mean, instead of confusing everybody (by which she meant her.)
"Mommy, can you read this whole book to me again. But, this time, don't say bucket. Say happy."
Silly metaphors.
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