Tuesday
7/29/04
The Change of Life
There’s much to be said for suburban life despite the fact that it occasionally suffers from the stereotype of somehow being lame and stodgy. In fact I’d have to say that as a lifestyle its advantages are many, one of the finest being that it affords me the chance to get my hands in the soil each spring and work the garden and plant a few veggies.
Those efforts in the spring are always rewarded; as I sit here in front of my ancient Gateway Solo I can see into the front yard where I have an assorted collection of hot peppers, each of which is just beginning to ripen. (And now, with your permission, I’m going to pull the handbrake on this baby and do a screeching 180 right into the ridiculously maudlin jaws of overwrought metaphor… hold on tight...) And just as my peppers are ripening, I’ve noticed that my older boy is now making the transition from Entirely Clueless Little Kid into Refreshingly Self-Aware And Self-Confident Bigger Kid.
Truth be told, the reason I’m so excited to see him making this transition is because in many ways he’s just a little carbon copy of me. (Literally, if you think about it.) Anyway, when I was a little kid, I was always the one who got in trouble only because I had no idea what was going on. When we were supposed to be standing on line to go to the cafeteria, I would still be staring out the window. When we were supposed to come in after recess, I would still be sitting outside while I futzed with my shoelaces. In short, truly clueless.
Of course half the reason that both my teachers and parents found this sort of behaviour so maddening is that they knew I was no dummy. I had been reading voraciously since kindergarten, and an exploratory trip to a specialist further confirmed that I did indeed have all my marbles. And yet, I remained frustrated a lot of the time because I too realized that I never knew what was going on.
And then, I swear it was like magic, about half way through fourth grade everything started to feel different. It was almost as if a fog had lifted and I was for the first time in my life completely in control of my own destiny. Suddenly I instinctively knew when to keep my head down and when to speak up. I knew who to make friends with and who to avoid. I can’t explain it, but when I turned nine that year, something just clicked in my head and I became, more or less, the person I am today.
So of course when it became my turn to be a father, the Creator, sly prankster that he is, presented my Lovely Bride and I with a child who was a little copy of me. As our new son grew into a little boy I became fond wandering around the house and saying things like, "Very funny, God" and "Jeez, no wonder my parents were so damn cranky." My son, just like his father before him, was an early and voracious reader who, unlike me, is also a total math whiz… and yet he has to be called to dinner five or six times before it sticks. My mother is really pretty good and snickers at me only occasionally when she witnesses all this.
But now the boy just turned nine. He’s going into fourth grade in the fall. And I’ll be damned if he isn’t making that very same transition into a relaxed and confident kid right before our very eyes. He’s becoming engaged with the world in a distinctly mature way and his ambient level of frustration has dropped to nearly zero. The weird thing is that the change is as inexplicable as it is rapid, but that’s fine with me.
So I guess the virtue that this little tale espouses is patience. I know a lot of you other blogging dads have younger kids, and I have no doubt that each and every one of them is a budding brain surgeon. But, if you find that your little Noble Laureate is entirely and inexplicably incapable of remembering to flush the toilet, don’t worry. There’s always fourth grade.
|
The Change of Life
There’s much to be said for suburban life despite the fact that it occasionally suffers from the stereotype of somehow being lame and stodgy. In fact I’d have to say that as a lifestyle its advantages are many, one of the finest being that it affords me the chance to get my hands in the soil each spring and work the garden and plant a few veggies.
Those efforts in the spring are always rewarded; as I sit here in front of my ancient Gateway Solo I can see into the front yard where I have an assorted collection of hot peppers, each of which is just beginning to ripen. (And now, with your permission, I’m going to pull the handbrake on this baby and do a screeching 180 right into the ridiculously maudlin jaws of overwrought metaphor… hold on tight...) And just as my peppers are ripening, I’ve noticed that my older boy is now making the transition from Entirely Clueless Little Kid into Refreshingly Self-Aware And Self-Confident Bigger Kid.
Truth be told, the reason I’m so excited to see him making this transition is because in many ways he’s just a little carbon copy of me. (Literally, if you think about it.) Anyway, when I was a little kid, I was always the one who got in trouble only because I had no idea what was going on. When we were supposed to be standing on line to go to the cafeteria, I would still be staring out the window. When we were supposed to come in after recess, I would still be sitting outside while I futzed with my shoelaces. In short, truly clueless.
Of course half the reason that both my teachers and parents found this sort of behaviour so maddening is that they knew I was no dummy. I had been reading voraciously since kindergarten, and an exploratory trip to a specialist further confirmed that I did indeed have all my marbles. And yet, I remained frustrated a lot of the time because I too realized that I never knew what was going on.
And then, I swear it was like magic, about half way through fourth grade everything started to feel different. It was almost as if a fog had lifted and I was for the first time in my life completely in control of my own destiny. Suddenly I instinctively knew when to keep my head down and when to speak up. I knew who to make friends with and who to avoid. I can’t explain it, but when I turned nine that year, something just clicked in my head and I became, more or less, the person I am today.
So of course when it became my turn to be a father, the Creator, sly prankster that he is, presented my Lovely Bride and I with a child who was a little copy of me. As our new son grew into a little boy I became fond wandering around the house and saying things like, "Very funny, God" and "Jeez, no wonder my parents were so damn cranky." My son, just like his father before him, was an early and voracious reader who, unlike me, is also a total math whiz… and yet he has to be called to dinner five or six times before it sticks. My mother is really pretty good and snickers at me only occasionally when she witnesses all this.
But now the boy just turned nine. He’s going into fourth grade in the fall. And I’ll be damned if he isn’t making that very same transition into a relaxed and confident kid right before our very eyes. He’s becoming engaged with the world in a distinctly mature way and his ambient level of frustration has dropped to nearly zero. The weird thing is that the change is as inexplicable as it is rapid, but that’s fine with me.
So I guess the virtue that this little tale espouses is patience. I know a lot of you other blogging dads have younger kids, and I have no doubt that each and every one of them is a budding brain surgeon. But, if you find that your little Noble Laureate is entirely and inexplicably incapable of remembering to flush the toilet, don’t worry. There’s always fourth grade.
