On one hand, I love when my kids surprise me. On the other hand, I think that my boys are
well centered enough that I should expect whatever behavior that might surprise
me. How’s that for an opening?
Let me tell you a quick tale. In a fit of what some might call
irresponsible parenting, I recently found myself traveling about 50 mph on a
jet ski. The possibly irresponsible part
is that at the time I had my 11 year old some clinging to me on the back of the
jet ski. We were zipping along in the
bay, following my dad and older son who were on a second jet ski.
The sea was a little rough, but nothing about which to be
really concerned. We rounded a corner
near some marshes where the water flattened out enticingly. My son yelled into my ear, “Catch them, dad.
Drown them in water and foam!” Now
that’s quite a statement. Drown them in
water and foam. I swear sometimes that
kid is meant to be a pirate.
Taking his cue, I punched it and blasted by our partner
skiers; drenching them, of course, in water and foam. My memory is a little foggy after that. I think we turned too hard, maybe I slowed
too fast, maybe a wave hit us broadside.
Regardless, the jet ski went right and we went left.
I’ve never fallen into the water going so fast. It hurt.
I can only equate it to being hit in the chest with a bat. The only thoughts I remember having as I
hurdled through the air are, “Oh, god” and “Holy Shit, my son!” Thankfully I popped up right next to
him. As I grabbed his life jacket to
pull him toward me, he asked in a completely calm voice, “Dad, are you
OK.” My pain was immediately
forgotten. My eleven year old son, who
just hit the bay at fifty miles per hour, was so composed that he was able to
be concerned about me instead of the pain he must have felt.
My dad drove over to us and drug us through the water to our
now idle machine. I climbed aboard and
yanked my son up behind me. It was only
then that he let himself feel some nerves.
He asked that we head in, and so I obliged. We made our way through the choppy seas back
to the house. Only after we docked the
small craft did he let himself cry. I
thought it was the adrenaline finally wearing off, but as it happened he had
broken a toe on his left foot.
We went to the ER and found his toe was badly broken and
displaced, having to be set twice. Poor
kid. Throughout it all, I could only
think about how calm and cool he was through it all; about how his concern was
for me after the crash; about my pride in what a great young man he is
becoming. This has added yet another
filter through which I look, judge, experience.
It is a filter I am all too happy to apply. It lets me know that my boys have gained yet
another plateau in their maturity. Lets
me feel good about how they will handle situations when I may not be there with
them. Feels pretty darn good.
RALSTON HAS SPOKEN
No comments:
Post a Comment