Saturday, March 9, 2013
This is my boy.
I'm sure I will spend the next 15 years violating child labor laws in such a manner as to make a Chinese NIKE factory look like Chuck-E-Cheese.
In warmer weather he likes to work outside with his old man, and when I say "work" I mean picking up a hammer and whacking the shit out of whatever I'm working on.
In colder weather, I'll hear a knocking on the window, and there he is, still in his pj's waving to me.
He's aware that when it's cold out, he can't come out with me, but he has deemed it "his job" to strap my gloves on for me, and he's content with supervising from the window.
Even though most humans view me somewhat along the lines of an asshole, to this guy...I'm pretty cool. I make sparks.
He's spent this winter being sick a lot. Not so much unlike any other kid living through a Chicago winter, but this last stint made us parent up and take him to the doctor.
I was prepared for the first question "is he drinking enough?" It took every fiber of my being to not blurt out "just beer and wine, but he stays away from the hard stuff". But before I could open my big mouth I had a vision of a pretty fist being jammed in my eye socket. I'm that guy that makes jokes at a funeral, I'm at the top of my comic game when I'm hurt or terrified.
To make a long story short, the doctor tells us he has pneumonia.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my girls face change. I could almost hear her brain trying to figure out how to crawl into his little body and eat the virus.
After the waves of panic, and a doctor that deserves a Oscar for his calming performance, the reality shined down that it's gonna be fine.
It's funny how sometimes tragedy makes way for clarity.
Children are like little wood carvers. They take a big chunk of wood (us) and over time, they chisel away to reveal something strong, timeless, and beautiful...(us.)