There’s nothing better than being a hero to a child. Unless of course that child is your own son and he would rather yell, scream, and kick your walls when placed on a time out for running over his younger brother with a toy shopping cart. Son #1 has the flare for the dramatic, and that’s an understatement. But this entry is less about the chaos that he creates or the walls he destroy and more about the compassion of the boy and my unyielding pride in his heart to be himself. We’re just hours away from his fifth birthday.

There has been some proof delivered on the karmic front by way of New Year’s Resolution. If you recall, I began this year with the intention on executing on the plan of patience and tolerance. This was more directed toward the outside world which routinely disappoints me in its inability to operate horseless carriages. However, my patience with Son #1 could be in question at times. Diligently, I planned on turning over this new foliage from the patient tree.

This has worked out well both of us. The last three months have been epic in the time we’ve shared together. The best part has actually come after bed time when my wife would fill me in on his discussions with her earlier in the day. He’d ask his mom, “I wonder how my Dad is doing today. If he is having a good day.” As much as you would expect your child to care about ‘how you are doing,’ it’s not always the reality. Children are pretty self-centered and have a limited attention span similar to that of a goldfish.

In the essence of time and reader attentiveness, I shouldn’t go into everything but I can’t help but write down some of the great things that have happened:

An Audio/Video Lesson
Unsolicited, Son #1 inquired of his mother about the sound emitted from the speakers of our great room A/V system. While my wife is gifted in many accolades and accomplishments in her life, electrical circuitry is not one of them. “Go ask your father,” she says. So he asks me how this stuff works. I have a question of my own, “Do you want the easy description or the scientific explanation?” He wanted the ‘scienticif’ explanation. The long and short of this story is that I crafted a drawing of the A/V system detailed down to the polarity of the wiring. That answered his question and he actually understood. Here is a one of the sheets of the drawing:


Planes, Trains, and buildable Aerospace Inventions
Because I don’t think we have enough clutter in the house, I decided to excavate 20 or so Lego sets from my parents’ attic and bring them home. Our formal dining room became a construction zone with parts strewn like a tornado tipped the Lego factory over. We built a motorized space train, about a dozen spaceships, construction vehicles with lights, and an airport and with accoutrements. Then we decided to freestyle and build our own elaborate spaceship and space station. This took about three weeks to complete. Lego’s were, and still appear to be, a major element of my life. Building with him and watching his excitement brought me back 25 years.

Is it the Z-button that I push?
Much like Lego’s, video games are an element of my generation. Son #1 and I have played Wii Sports Bowling and Golf. He will spank you at both. Don’t believe? Come on over and play him. The next step was the introduction to the Lego franchise of games. We have both Star Wars and Indiana Jones. The latter of the two is much more able to accommodate two players of varying degrees of skill. The one thing I didn’t realize is how well his little mind could master the puzzles of the game. Varying degrees of skill are no longer a problem. He and I are dominating the adventures together. As he accomplishes feats and levels, he becomes more and more excited.


Culinary Arts at NASA
Out of the mouths of babes; Son #1 periodically rambles and occasionally will spill some interesting comments. One evening, he and I were preparing dinner when an advertisement about technology or something was uselessly running on the television. In a trance, he tells me that he has ‘never been to outer space.’ Yes. This comes as a surprise. He was sincere and worried that in his five whole years on this green planet, that he’d missed a unique opportunity to offer his ‘scienticif’ skills to NASA. So I explain that by studying hard he can become and astronaut and achieve an outer space voyage. Worried, he explains to me that he wants to be a chef and since he believes one is mutually exclusive of the other, he can’t have both. Chefs don’t go to outer space.

And while sounding cliché, Son #1 can become whoever his vision for himself defines. I had the privilege of figuring out that very vision of me. That’s not to say my parents didn’t intervene when I was spending too much of my allowance on candy or writing dirty words in Madlibs, because they did. I was fortunate enough to have parents who believed in my ability to make my own educated decisions. They were (and still are) comfortable with their parental skill sets and how they deployed their will on my growth. ‘Give them enough, and let them figure out the rest.’ While I was jealous of my friends who were forced to take piano lessons and committed to one sport or club, I was never coerced into joining or competing when I didn’t want to. In retrospect, the decisions and interests were pushed down to me, for me to choose, for me to fit to my liking and my comfort level. My jealousy has long since faded. I realized that those small exercises in decisions led to larger and more balanced thinking and greater balanced existence. Those same friends as children who were forced to play soccer every year and practice their flutes are the same adults who are inflexible in their ways dividing their family and fostering resent.

Many nights I’ve slid into his room and stood in amazement of the fortune I’ve had in having him as a son. You could say that the communication between the two of isn’t the most efficient. If both of us are sleep or food deprived, I would strongly warn you to keep your distance from any confrontations between the two of us. What makes our relationship complicated at times is the common fact that he and I are emotionally equivalent. An educated individual would think that he and I would recognize this detriment/commonality and step out of a potentially combustible situation.

It never works out that way. I suppose that’s why I have so many worries. He’s so much like me I worry that he’s destined to travel the same emotional path. I’ve always wanted to do better for him, do more, and give him more opportunities I’ve never had. Better yet, opportunities I’ve had, but where I made mistakes. With all of the pain and heartbreak in the world, I struggle with my inability to shield him from the inevitable bumps in the road. That’s part of the parental job description; learning to let go. I can only pray that I equip him with the courage to follow his heart regardless of risk and heartache. As I sit here and wrap up this entry, I’m a little misty-eyed about the little man growing up more and more each day. I’m watching as a finite number of days with him pass. Despite my awareness of the trouble he will encounter on his journey through life and my inability to protect him from all of the heartache, I know the apple didn’t fall far from the proverbial tree. His heart and passion are real. They are mine and he is me, but better.


Son #1 has the blessing (read: curse) of responding to the outside world in an identical fashion as his father. So here’s to the next ‘scienticif’ explanation of where gas goes when you pour it in to the gas tank of the car, and more importantly, Son #1’s fifth birthday.