Heidi and I were talking about my impressive collection of fidgets and what might happen to them upon my retirement. "I'll definitely take them," she said.
"I know I use them more as toys than fidgets," I told her, thinking of the yo-yos, speed cubes, flip sticks, pop tubes, whizzzzers, and assorted balls both squishy and bouncy that reside on the corner of my desk, "and the kids are really just allowed to use them during breaks."
"That's true," she agreed.
"But they do love them," I added. "And sometimes they try to sneak them to their seats at work time. And sometimes they literally beg me to use them while they are working." I laughed. "Can I pleeeeeeaaaaaaase just have this Rubik's cube with me while I write?" I imitated a desperate sixth grader.
"What do you do?" she asked.
"It's a lot like the bathroom situation," I shrugged. "I can tell by their faces if it would actually help and if it will, then I let 'em."
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