This poem came out of the November 19, 2019 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from curiosity . It is posted here as barter with janetmiles . "A Brief History of Fidgeting" 50,000 years of handiwork -- 50,000 years of rubbing two sticks to light fires, pounding wheat seeds to make flour, working hides into leather -- 6,000 years of shearing washing carding spinning weaving sewing -- 2,000 years of idle hands are the devil's playground -- all driving evolution toward big brains and clever fingers, patience and restlessness balancing just so over the knapped edge of a knife. Now that the need to move, to make things, is set more surely than dye in wool, suddenly it's not wanted anymore. 50,000 years of putting a digging stick into a child's hands as soon as it could stand, setting them to thresh seed or gather tufts of wool or tie fishnets knot by knot -- and now it's just fidgeting. Look at history, look at the paintings of people with their hands always full, their fingers busy with pens, knitting needles, garden shears -- we're not meant to be idle, it's not natural, it feels as wrong as not breathing. People need to move, need to make things. To fidget is to be human. These are the things that every child used to learn, the ways of making and cleaning and working, the crafts of humanity. So don't slap them. Your ancestors have made them to work. The twist of our DNA comes out in the cotton dropping from a spindle, dyed in the wool as it's caught in crochet hooks. What they're taught now is numbers and letters and computer code, abstracts that are difficult to grasp -- and you wonder why they fidget. Turn of the blue light and the phones that buzz like so many bugs. Go, sit in the window, take up yarn and sticks, fidget them into something warm and soft to wear. Take the children in hand and show them how to knit. Teach them spinning, weaving, woodcarving, any kind of craft that will fill their fingers and inspire their minds. 50,000 years of history can't be wrong.