Family Road trip-rest stops, “cont brkfst,” and “waffle off”-yahoo!

The bags are packed. The DVDs and Cd’s have been collected because we will be leaving soon.  We will drive 19-20 hours with our six and three year old boys. We will begin with tremendous optimism about the journey. And then15 minutes into the trip, the boys will shout, “why we aren’t at Grandma’s house yet?”

We will begin with healthy snacks, a clean car, bottled water, and fresh fruit. Eventually, we’ll tire out and settle  Paul Newman salads and fajita wraps at Mc Donald’s. We’ll even keep our spirits up after a night of negotiating sleep at the Comfort Inn. And comment on how clean they keep the waffle makers due to “Waffle Off.” What you may ask is “Waffle Off?” It is a spray used to clean off the waffle makers in between uses at the “Cont Breakfast,” (continental breakfast.) I’m still unclear as to which continent eats this way.

And then there will be time with extended family. Some of which will include the necessary chatter, and discussion of what “we have to do.” Only to be followed by the conversations in private about why we have to do what they want. And just when it seems like we can’t have one more family meal, ice cream, or hot dog on a hot bench with flys near by , its time to head back on the road.

But now, we’re tired. All the videos and DVDs are no longer exciting. One traffic jam seems like one too many. The empathy you felt for “that poor driver” on the way there, turns into,”for crisake, get off the road!” And about now, the food goes downhill. You go to Bob Evans for the sausages and biscuits, start drinking serious quantities of Big Gulps from 7-11, and the fruit has to come from unatural food sources; ”sour apple, grape, and fruity” flavored gum, cereal and treats. And then its time for one more night at a motel.

This time, its the one off the highway. The one with the really, really, really, long drive way to the Days Inn. Most of the other guests are truckers. The place usually looks like it was painted over many, many times as part of its effort to upgrade. The lobby entrance is a mix of low lighting and the blue bouncing off of the tv screen. The plants are fake with a coating of dust.

It’s the kind of motel where they provide you with an iron door stop to keep out the riff raff. The air conditioning is always a bit too cold and loud. The floral prints have turned to weed prints. Most of the caulk in the bath has peeled away. They don’t even bother letting you know that the bathroom was cleaned. And while they provide you a supply of towels, everyone you open up appears to be a hand towel. You want to complain, but by the time you figure you’re way around the maze of a motel, it will be morning.

And when you wake up, you aren’t sure whether the place is better in the day or at night. The cleaning staff looks like local high school drop outs or goths who got a job there because it was the best one in town. You want to sleep. Your body aches. You feel stuffy. You want a glass of water, but the glass looks a bit tinted from overuse and rusty water. You don’t want to turn the shower to “H” for cold and “C” for hot. But you know if you miss breakfast hours, there is no make up policy. So you dragged the family down there.

You sit and listen to truckers compare road tales. Despite swearing off excessive carbohydrates, you are forced to eat white bread, powdered donuts, Frosted Flakes, and drink coffee with Creamer packets. The place is so far down the motel totem pole, they don’t even have “waffle off.” Only then, do you realize how good you had it. The dining room is basically 10 card tables and some black chairs with minor rips and stuffing peeking out. You have to wonder if its even worth eating there and then its back on that long, long, long drive way.

Every rest stop feels like a burden. By now, the car is on cruise control and basically the kids are driving and drinking Mountain Dew. The rest stops all look the same because, well, they are all the same. Your legs feel like lead weights from sitting so long. And then for awhile you are cruising. You feel like you are almost home, but there is a festival or its a weekend or people are leaving work, so you inch along, listening to the same songs. The kids can’t watch Cars or the Incredibles one more time. And then, you make the turn into the garage.

The house feels stuffy. The big pack of mail is waiting for you. The microwave lights are blinking because the power went out for awhile while you were away. The laundry sits in a mountainous pile. You take a hot shower. The air conditioning starts to kick in. You watch a show you’ve been missing and then………….. fall asleep……. during the best part.

Sunday before the road trip

We have spent most of the day preparing for our road trip/vacation. We will load up the Honda Odyssey and drive for 19-20 hours. J and I went to Best Buy to get some of the essentials: batteries, CD player/headphones and Ipod radio transformer. We couldn’t leave there without J needing to watch with amazement as some kid was using Guitar Hero. I’m not sure I get it. And then as we checked out, I didn’t know how the checkout guy could seriously ask me if I want to buy insurance for a $19.00 CD player. Do people really do that?

When I came home, Ry and I played the basketball game, H O R S E.  He seemed to enjoy making silly sounds and dance movements as a part of any shot he attempted. When J joined us,  we changed the game to S A N D S K I N K, since he just learned about them in his ecology camp. The boys then lined up multiple squirt guns: the blaster, old school guns, sword like squirters, and a pirates head squirter. They were planning on a squirt gun rematch with their Uncle. And then the teenager next door stopped by because he was locked out, and he got the water party started.

The yard is trashed. There are a various assortment of squirt guns and pails scattered around. My sons are soaked to the bone literally. I feel like such a grown up. While my older brother, the teenager next door and my sons were getting soaked, I was working with my neighbor to cut down branches and dead trees. Actually, I was watching and trying not to get in the way as he sawed away and removed trees over the garage and in the back of the yard. For some reason, I often find myself surrounded by people that know more than me about “what to do.” Therefore I’m often the guy standing near by, agreeing, or engaging them in conversation while they do the work.

It’s funny, but I’ve often felt bad or ashamed that I’m not “Mr. know it all.” You know the guy who always has a better way to do it, or makes comments when you try to do it, like, “what you really should do is,” or” you don’t want to get to close to that wire, maybe I ought to do it.” This is the first time it has occurred to me that the price I’ve paid to get other people to do my work for me is to engage them in some dialogue about themselves. It’s cheaper than getting a handyman.

When is it time to put the blog to rest?

I’m sure I’m not alone in wondering about who actually reads this. Initially, there is the excitement of seeing the statistics ticker go up one number. Also it was fun to see where people were reading the blog and for how long. Eventually a comment or two started to creep in. And then there are all the suggestions for ways to be noticed in this vast sea of blogs-comment on other blogs, comment on social networking sites, tell your friends, write regularly, think about whom you are writing to. And if you do all of that, there is some more excitement about seeing the graph go through the roof for a day. And then it settles downward.

I think I’ve reached a wall. The ideas don’t come as easily. I’m less interested in seeing the stats. The novelty of the ability to use U-tube, twitter, delicious, thoughts.com, wordpress, or blogger has dwindled. I just offered to let my son put together a blog. Perhaps, it is time to pass this on. Perhaps after vacation, I will find a voice for all of this, but for the moment, I wonder if I have become one of the many people out there that started this with so much excitement only to fade into the pasture of blogs that have not been updated in many, many months. What about you-what keeps you going?

What was so wrong about putting Obama on the cover of the New Yorker?

Groundbreaking Cover
I believe many years from now, this cover will be seen as groundbreaking. It had to be done. Someone needed to take the risk of figuring out how to use satire to skew this candidate. While I don’t believe they succeeded in their effort, I do believe they opened the door for future satirists to find an acceptable way to poke fun at a presidential candidate of color or a non-Caucasian. In the same way artists move into sketchy areas and make it more acceptable for others to move in, the New Yorker has entered the until yesterday, forbidden territory.

Color Precedes You
Where the editor of the New Yorker and his team failed is in understanding the lesson taught to me by a respected teacher of mine, “color precedes you.” The editor was defending his decision to go with the cover because it was satire. And based on the history of the magazine and our nations history of Caucasain male candidates, his decision probably made sense. But Barack is not a Caucasian presidential candidate and his color, race, and all the perceptions about it precede the facts about him. And one has to wonder if they considered that when they made the decision to go with the cover.

Privilege and Power
I believe the editor and his team of editors really believe their intention was to satirize Obama and his wife, in the way they may do so to Mc Cain. But I can’t help but believe part of their decision to do so is a result of like minded men and women of privilege consulting one another for in put on the cover. If they consulted with 100 people of middle to upper middle class people of color, they could have easily pointed out how this cover would be perceived. Because unlike the editor and I’m guessing the decision makers, they don’t have to live in two cultures within one nation under God.

Living in two worlds
Any middle to upper middle class person of any color has had to learn to live within their own culture and the expectations of middle to upper middle class Caucasians. This means learning the likes, dislikes, how to dress, talk, interact, joke, date, eat etc. You have to work hard to function in both worlds. When you are part of the majority, you determine the rules and how the game is played. You therefore have the luxury of skipping over matters like race, or thinking about what others are thinking; and can spend your time intellectualizing. And while doing this, I believe the editors missed out on some important perspectives.

And Barack,like a Timex, keeps on ticking
None of this is new to Obama, he and Michelle have been living this way for years and so they will continue to sail along while the people in power try to figure out how to apply the traditional rules of politics to Obama.

Late night snacks with the kids

Mondays are my late night. When I come home, I expect to let the babysitter go home, and finish putting Ry to bed. J should be in a deep sleep by then. As I said, this is what should happen. Tonight when I came home, Ry ran up to me, and gave me a hug-a hug, that suggested he wanted something from me, more than an “oh I’m really glad to see you” hug.  I coughed. And then I heard J pull extra hard on his door to open it and then he jumped on me. And as I walked the sitter downstairs, the boys indicated they were hungry. However when I tried to find out what they wanted to eat, they were hugging Ed the cat and Gogurt the kitten.

So I lined up three bowls of cereal and waited for the additional late night requests. The truth is I just don’t have it in me after a long day at work to become strict dad. Also I’m glad I get to hang with them for awhile before they go to bed. Their late night excitement led to a request for candy- I said ,”no.” And then, some cookies, I said”no.” And finally, “a little watching.” I gave them my pat late night answer, “if you finish your flossing, brushing, and rinse, you can watch a few minutes of the Electric Company.

They would never pick the Electric Company over something “On Demand.” But when the choice is Electric or nothing, they’ll gladly join Morgan Freeman, Rita Moreno, Bill Cosby, Irene kara and the rest of the cast. And then, its time to put out the light.

How do you respond when a kid..parent makes a mistake?

As a parent, it is easy to identify what our kids are not doing correctly, how they “should” do something or to be frustrated when they make mistakes. When I was a kid, if you made a mistake, it appeared parents felt it was imperative to make you feel ashamed or to blame you. It didn’t seem to matter what the actual mistake was nor where you were at developmentally.

So with our kids, we try to soften the blow. In fact, there have been moments, where I’m both surprised and amused to hear J say, ” Dada, you know what we say when we make mistakes…..yeah for mistakes.” It came from more of a wish on our parts to allow them room to feel like mistakes are a part of learning. However my inner cynic needs to point out, this is not something that either my wife nor I have truly come to internalize. We are more likely to convey a mixed message of “holy crapt, you did what!!!…I mean Yeah for mistakes..”

On Friday, I was feeling productive. So I decided to clean the Honda Odyssey rugs. I did a pretty thorough job. However since my wife and I were leaving for a short trip, I thought I’d put the rugs back in the van, even though, they weren’t fully dry. A little voice inside my head said, open the windows, let them dry some more. I ignored the voice.

So today, I told my wife I was going to put one of the rugs, which had been out to dry, in the van, before we load up the boys for camp. When I opened the door, the van stunk. It was damp and musty. But I thought I could cover up the smell. It took the boys coming in and saying,”oooooooh what’s that smell” and racing out of the car for me to accept it really stunk.

And then I heard, “mom, Honda really stinks.” Internally, I felt myself regress to a kid preparing to be scolded for making a mistake. She came in, clearly trying not to say anything as her face contorted this way and that. We opened up the windows to air it out. She acknowledged that she had wanted to tell me to leave the rugs out and didn’t. And as they all switched cars and went in the smaller Nissan sentra, I stayed and tried to turn up the air conditioning, and air out the car. And then I smiled, laughed to myself and said, “yeah for mistakes.”

Justin Roberts Concert

This is the first time I’ve used this blog to promote a musician, but Justin Roberts has been an important part of our journey with our boys. We were first introduced to him at a benefit concert for Ry and J’s pre-school. We’ve been listening to him and attending his concerts ever since. He has enjoyed a rise in popularity since then, so his name may not be new to you. But I received an email from him and his people with a list of upcoming concerts. And since I don’t know how to directly link him to this blog, I’m going to provide you with his email address. Check it out and definitely attend one of his concerts if he is in your area. http://www.justinrobertsmusic.com.

Movie Night: The Indian in the Cupboard

It was movie night once again, and our On Demand selection was “The Indian in the Cupboard.” This is one of those movies that I’ve seen trailers for over the years, but never thought I’d see it. The choice was between this and “Babe.”

In the movie, the main character is given a cupboard for his birthday and a skeleton key for it. He soon discovers that when he puts one of his toy Indians in there, closes the door and opens it with his key, it becomes real.

The movie was engaging enough for all of us to sit through it. I asked the boys what they would put in it. Ry selected one of his hot wheel cars. J wanted his stuffed animal in there. My mind went in the direction of Monopoly. I’d start inserting Park Avenue, and then all of the cash, turn the key, yeah..gas money.

When you’re kid is ready to take the big plunge, before you are-it requires a leap of faith

I believe it is important for our boys to try a variety of experiences out especially at young ages. Moreover, I believe that part of this process includes learning the joy of mastering something and the frustration that comes with making mistakes and needing to work harder. There are times however when I struggle between wanting to support their desire to try something with my concern that they may be getting in over their heads.

On Saturday, we went to an outdoor swimming facilities. It was the Cadillac of swimming pools. They had water slides, Olympic size pool, kiddie pools, and everything water based in between. But more importantly they had diving boards. Ry, who is still working at improving his swimming was intrigued by the board. He indicated he wanted to jump off of the board. I was not certain this would be the best idea, but I agreed he could go for it.

We waited with some family friends as bigger boys flipped, flopped, and twisted their bodies off of the board into the pool. And then Ry took his 6 year old self and carefully walked to the end of the board, looked out at us, and simply jumped, plunged, and safely rose up, and dog paddled to the side. After a round of congratulations, he was ready for a few more jumps. And then,” hey dad, I’d like to jump from the high dive.” Gulp.

I really struggled over whether to stop him or not. He slowly climbed, climbed, climbed, and climbed till he reached the top. He slowly walked the plank, till he reached the end. Our friend chuckled and remarked, “did you see him, he just mouthed the words WOW.” He looked forward, looked back, and then…he turned around and walked down, down, down, down, the stairs. When I told him I was proud of his decision, he looked confused. I said I’m glad you knew yourself enough to know you weren’t ready to go rather than jumping out of concern for what others would think.

When You’re kid is missing- A minute can seem like a long time

It was July 4, 2008. We attended the firework ceremony near the lake. It was dark, but the beach was filled with many families. Ry had some colorful lights and his buddy had a bright light on his head, so I wasn’t worried about finding them. I had Ry give J one of his lights, so we’d know where he was too. I told J, “stay with Ry.” I could see Ry and his buddy were excited to be out late at night and running on the beach. At one point, I could see they were in a race towards us. “Where’s J?,” I asked.

Next thing I know I was looking for a 4 year old in a burgundy hoodie at night. And then I hear some girls calling out my name, I walk over. ” Are you J’s dad?” “Yes, where’s J?” He just left with his mother. I saw my wife and asked “where’s J?” She hadn’t seen him. At that moment, I started to worry.

As I walked around, people would say, “he went that way.” I wished he had stopped in one spot. The more people told me which way he went, the more I wished someone had helped him stay in one spot. And then we spotted our friend in a bright white shirt, and she had J with her. We hugged him,told him we loved him, and tried to sort out the details.

It appears he was not on his own for long. Another mom had given him to our friend. And that person kept an eye on our friend, till she believed J was with his parents. I was impressed that J had the instincts to tell some girls about the age of our babysitters my name. I was grateful our friend was there. But that minute or two sure felt like hours till he was in our arms.

Why Do I continue to blog….And why do you?

Why do I continue to blog? Why does anyone? This all began as a bit of an experiment back in late April. I wrote about what I am most interested in which is being a dad. As I wrote, I re-discovered writing. I started finding out what aspects of parenting I enjoy. Also I learned new ways to post articles and which ones seemed of interest and which ones didn’t. I quickly became interested in checking out the “analytics” section of blogger. And then sought out sites like wordpress, which seemed to have a more interactive community and easier to read statistics section. And then I found tweeter, technocrati, delicious, and thoughts.com. Each one of these sites engaged  me for periods of time.

I found the process of having people to follow and being followed intriguing on Tweeter. And yet I still feel like I am talking to myself on there. I really like the ability to focus on certain topics and find articles or blogs related to it on delicious. I find technocrati less friendly to use. And I like the small community and the instant responses from thoughts.com. I haven’t even tried facebook or myspace. I think the largeness of it turns me off.  It’s the difference between attending a large scale university or small independent collage. I’d fit in better with the small independent school.

I have spent almost little over two months learning, blogging, and experimenting in this world, and I”m still not sure why. Some of it seems to be related to its “potential” for new experiences. But I don’t get it. Perhaps, since my friends are unlikely to use social networking sites as a way to communicate, I am missing the more personal aspects of this. For me, the experience has been more like being at one big social function rather than a gathering of close friends.

People send me comments or replies and then we are on our way. It is not like being in a group where you connect regularly over time. And yet some people reveal very intimate details of their lives, more than you might in a personal relationship.  As I sort out my own reasons for participating,  I continue to wonder why people keep showing up?

Is the need for connection? Is it a wish to be heard by others? Is it to try on a new voice? Is for others to validate or support ones beliefs, feelings, or experiences? And does this on-line experience fulfill a need that is not met in the real world with the family, friends, and associates in our lives? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

One car seat-2 boys- A lesson in Supply and Demand

I am not a student of economics. However I understand the basic concept of supply and demand. Specifically if there is a limited supply of something and many people want it, its perceived value increases. What you may ask does this have to do with parenting or my relationship to my two sons? Let me explain.

We currently have two vehicles: a Honda Odyssey and a Nissan Sentra. However we only have 3 booster seats. A booster seat is one of those items you need to have, but if you loan it to someone who is going to drive your kid or if you leave it in the other car, your going to have that moment where you say to yourself, “sh.t!! I don’t have the car seat. The solution is simple, buy another car seat-right?

As you read this, the solution seems obvious. But trust me when you are in the day to day drive your kid to camp, get groceries, go to the doctor, take care of the house and yard-getting a car seat doesn’t usually rank in the top 10 on the “to do” list. And then there is the issue of how much are you going to have to pay for just one car seat. And then my wife will suggest, “why don’t you stop by a thrift store and get one?”

At this time in my life, I hate going in thrift stores. I hate the chaos, the smell, the leftover pieces of others peoples lives.  It is no longer a romanticized experience for me. So last Friday, I picked up Ry from camp and went to Target and found an$18.00 car seat. Target was created for those of us who don’t want to pay exorbitant prices, can’t stand Sears, and don’t want garage sale items. It’s not too expensive and looks good enough to make you feel like you are still doing OK.

We put the Cosco car seat together quickly and easily in front of Target. Ry instantly wanted to try it out. It is black with a burgandy stripe in the center, with modest black cushion arm rests, with a cup holder on the side. Ry immediately noted how comfortable it was. I knew at that moment that I had to declare,”this is a family car seat.” This way he or J or a friend could use it. 

Ry wanted to bring thecosco car seat  box into the house. J was curious about the mysterious box with a car seat on the outside. Ry announced, “I got a new car seat.” J replied,” hey thats not fair!”  I added, “Ry didn’t get a car seat. It’s an extra one that anyone can use. In fact I plan on using it on the next ride.” This usually breaks the tension till we went for a ride.

Ry raced for the Honda and had to sit in the new car seat. J shouted,”that’s not fair.” Their mom replied, “you get it on the way back.” And now despite having four car seats, every car ride begins with a negotiation to sit in this black car seat with a wide burgendy stripe down the center, followed by ” I get the car seat.” ” Ok,but I get it on the way home.

What did the vet say about Gogurt the kitten?

When we adopted Gogurt the kitten from Paws, Chicago, they told us that he had been taking an anti-bio tics for a pneumonia. But they felt he was able to go home with us. As it turns out, they may have suspended his anti-biotics sooner than they should have. So while with us in our air-conditioned home, his cold and stuffysneezy cough persisted. Fortunately, Paws gave us a certificate allowing us a free vet visit at VCA. So my wife and the boys took him in and waited it out. The results were positive. He does have a cold, needs to get back on an anti-biotic, and we have to turn down the air conditioning. That is the hardest part for me. Oh yeah, and they informed them that our chubby couch potatoe tabby, Ed will likely catch the cold. Last night as Ed and Gogurt joined us in bed, Ed started to sneeze. If we get any more pets, I’m going to have to get a king size bed.

Bringing Ed the Cat…..and Gogurt the Kitten home

A couple of months ago, we adopted Ed the Cat(read earlier blog, titled, ”Ed the Cat.” ) Two weeks ago, we brought home Gogurt the kitten. Gogurt is a feisty black and grey Tabby with an M over his forehead. Much to our surprise, he and Ed get along quite well. Ed sniffs him out, nibbles on his food, dumps in his litter box, and wrestles with Gogurt. Gogurt likes to take wild rabbit punches and chase Ed’s tail. Ed just gives him a little swipe and then licks Gogurt. He’s pretty protective of his little brother.

The boys seem to love Ed and Gogurt. J can’t stop hugging them under his arms, even when they are ready to have him let them go. Ry will stop any activity he’s working on to focus on them. Today, Gogurt is going to the Vet. He came to us having been treated for a pneumonia. He continues to have this annoying and I imagine frustrating stuffed nose. So he makes a stuffy sneezy sound without actually releasing a sneeze. I hope he is Ok. I should know before the afternoon is over what the verdict is on Gogurt. Stay tuned.

Do we expect as much of boys as we do of girls?

Is it my imagination or does our society just really have low expectations of boys? I’m shocked by the number of people that are surprised that my boys are polite. By this, I’m referring to the fact they will say please or thank you. I’m sorry but this doesn’t seem like to much to expect of a child.

When the boys were younger, I’d hear all about how girls learn to speak sooner than boys. However both of the boys began speaking pretty early. It’s almost as if people have bought into the idea that boys are incapable of speaking early, being respectful socially, and can only fight and get into trouble.

I definitely think boys have a need to express their energy. To me, the question is how to help them do so rather than trying to suppress it.  We have been buying inflatable punching bags for years. They jump on them, punch them, throw them, kick them, pile on them, and then we get another. I’m usually surprised by how many boys and girls visit our house and want to take a whack at Superman, Jackie Chan, George Bush, Batman, or Bozo. But they stop and check with their parents to see if it is OK.

I don’t get it. Adults have a need to express their frustration, anger, and upset; so do kids. But if a kid is not given room to express this and must constantly restrain themselves, I think it is only natural that they will take it out on someone such as another kid or act out in other ways. Let’s be honest, some of the problem with boys is that they don’t respond like girls. Girls more naturally fit a kid world dominated by mothers and school teachers that are also women.

I am in no way surprised by the number of boys that get slapped with a diagnosis ADHD and are put on ritalin. While I’m sure significant numbers of them are justified; I remain skeptical. I think a boys natural tendency to run, jump, spin, climb, fart, be silly, and less in control creates teachers with opportunities to be creative in their approach to educating.

It seems the issue is less about boys and more about an educational system reluctant to rethink how to work with boys. And a culture that passively sits back and accepts a “boys will be boys” approach to parenting. If nothing is expected of a boy, he will not deliver. However if we raise the level of expectations for our sons, and support them in succeeding, we may be surprised by the results.

Loving your kids by letting them struggle

J charged into the room and reprimanded Ry,” Ry, you had my CD in your room.” Ry didn’t miss a beat, he quickly shot back, ” you traded with me and said I could have it forever.” J followed with, ” Ok Ry, I’m sorry.” In that moment, I witnessed the difference between a 6.5 year old and a nearly 4 year old. J still has the trust and openness, and Ry has been learning about negotiating with other kids, what Stanley Greenspan calls, “playground politics.”

Ry still needs to check in when he feels unfairly treated by a friend or other kid, but mostly for reassurance. The other day he described how some kids had as much as “fifteen dollars” for a field trip to the zoo. Even though the camp requested the kids not bring more than a couple of dollars for a drink. He was frustrated he couldn’t buy much when some other kids “could even buy cotton candy!” And one kid offered to give him “one M&M for a $1.00.” I could feel myself regress to the days of agonizing with these moments.

I empathized with his struggle. I shared some of my own tales from the front. And then I said, “Ry, there are some things you just have to go through to learn how to deal with them.” In a short time, he was on to swimming class and done with it. Me, well, I’m still blogging about it.

Is my kid ready to swim in the deep end?

I was never a very good swimmer, so in some ways it has been important to me that the boys learn how to swim as soon as they could. Like so many experiences, the kid will learn when the kid is ready. We tried swimming lessons last year and Ry made progress but it just didn’t come together as well as I had hoped. This summer he seems to be making leaps and bounds with swimming. In fact, he requested to go in the deep end of the pool the other day.

I suspect most six year olds are like this. They think they can do more than they can do. I was reluctant to let him go. But my wife, a very good swimmer said she’d be near by. The lifeguard observed them and said Ry had to take a basic swim test to stay in the deep end. I watched as the senior lifeguard instructed the junior lifeguard of the rules. I didn’t know what to expect. I told him what I believed, “Ry, you can definitely make it from the lane divider to the end of the pool and you can wade in the water.” He was less certain.

One quality I admire about this kid is his willingness to try. He decided to go for it. He did the free style, and when he was tired the doggy paddle, and he did it! And then the senior guard indicated he needs to wade in the water. Every time the junior guard would make eye contact with the senior, he’d shake his head, as if to say “not long enough.” I could feel my entitled parent wanting to take charge, so Ry wouldn’t go through the disappointment. But at the same time, I believed he needs to experience both learning sometimes its enough and sometimes its not. In this case, it was good enough!

He did it. He crossed into deeper waters and this was just the first test.