Campouts! (Sort of...)

"Secret" campouts!

Until very recently, they were a thing, and my son loved having them.   The only reason they’ve stopped is because he’s outgrown his interest in them.  What are these, you might ask?  They’re totally easy and fun dad and lad events, and for us, they were my son’s creation.

All this began when he was toddler.  He was sick and I ended up sleeping in his room next to his crib on the floor whenever he was sick enough to warrant an extra set of eyes or ears nearby.  Honestly, I have to admit more often, I was a nervous dad and wanted to be close to him as he slept, in case he needed something.  I’d have felt horrible if he was in some sort of real distress and I didn’t know it.  But the original idea was his—a fun way for him to have company while I got to monitor him.  As time passed (and I settled down as a new parent), the need to be right with him when he was sick diminished.  But across those early years, he became aware that there were times when he was sick that he’d wake up and find me sleeping in his room nearby.  That’s when the fun began.  He started asking for me to come sleep in his room just because he wanted the company—not because he was sick.  A quick tangent here:  other than by very rare exception (less than you can count on one hand), he has never been allowed to sleep in our bed with us.  We’ve always wanted him to know he has his own bed, and to feel comfortable in it.  So this wasn’t replacing anything like that.

This little arrangement turned into a game we began playing.  He’d tell me to tell Steph that I had “computer work to do”, then I’d bring my pillow and sleeping bag into his room and we’d hang out while he fell asleep.  Funny thing was, we went for several years where I’m pretty sure he really thought Steph had no idea that we were having a “secret campout”.  We enjoyed letting him think this way.  It made the whole thing more exciting: more dramatic.  More years passed, and he figured out there was really nothing secret about the whole thing, but we continued to play the game.

Here’s what it’s become, and what we do.  It would be bedtime and we’d tuck him in.  Most recently, then he would text me and asked for a secret campout (or an SCO).  When it’s bedtime for me, I’ll head back to his room and gently wake him up to let him know I’m there.  Sometimes he’ll want to talk about any number of things, but talk or not, he’d always end up sound asleep again within a very short amount of time.  These little SCOs became a wonderful way to continue fostering that special bond between the two of us:  moments of trust, comfort and fun.

Maybe more significant in the long run are the “regular campouts” we have.  These aren’t actual outdoor campouts either though.  (Some day I hope we get to share those too.  He’s a bit reluctant to be that close to nature, although I see his curiosity and sense of adventure starting to overshadow his uncertainty.)  Instead, we gather up a couple sleeping bags and pillows, make some popcorn, grab some sodas, and head back to the playroom for some solid dad-n-lad time.  We play video games and usually end up watching something of mutual interest on Netflix or Amazon.  We tell jokes and make all the sounds and grunts that boys make when we know we’re not going to get “that look” from mom.  And these also became the times when he felt he can talk to me about anything because he knows the time is protected.

When we do this, the playroom becomes the best fort ever, or a spaceship, or a secret base—any place he wants it to be where we’re alone together.  Now he’s moved through the pre-teen years, and as an early teenager, the secret campouts have all but ended.  He’s older and busier, and has interests that hold his attention in the evening other than time with me.  But he still talks about our SCOs, and for the most part, we’ve replaced them with occasional dad and lad outings for lunch or dinner.  As he continues to grow and mature, my hope is our dedicated times together continue through other activities.  What I’ll always work to protect is what really has been behind our SCOs for so many years:  dedicated time for the two of us deepen our relationship as father and son.  Both Stephanie and I have done our best to let him know he’s always allowed to talk to us about anything, individually or together, and that those conversations are safe.  For these years so far, and for the years to come, we’ll do what we can to reinforce and encourage that kind of open communication for those times when it’s needed.

It’s great to be a dad!

Kids and Dogs

Dogs!  They’re just plain cool, and for most kiddos, they’re great companions and playmates.  They provide an opportunity for kids to take responsibility for something living in addition to their other chores.  We had dogs for most of my growing up years, and I’ve had one for most of my adult years.

When our son was born we had a pup in the house.  She had already been with us a few years, loved Paul as a baby, but as he got older and big enough to play with her, she got grumpier.  Almost entirely a jealousy issue.  She was never out of line and never caused him harm, but really didn’t want to participate in his fun and games.  In her later years as an elderly dog, she became plain old grumpy.  It saddened my son that he didn’t have a dog that wanted to play, and our promise to him was to get him a dog that would be his when the sad day came that our old dog moved on.

That day came and we were all heartbroken.  Even Paul was crushed by the passing of the pup even though she really didn’t like him.  The plan was to take some time off, let the wound of the loss heal, then find a pup that would be his.  Among just a few others, his preferences included a Corgi.  Our old dog was a rescue and a mutt, and part Corgi, so that probably fueled some of the desire.  Not to mention Corgis are a crazy cool breed with lots of energy, and a personality two or three times their physical size.

As things sometimes do, we became aware of a litter of Corgis right at the time we lost our old dog.  We were pleasantly surprised that this struck us as a comfort in spite of the recent loss, and we decided to take a look.  A quick visit later and we were hooked.  To make it better, the pup we ended up with was weened and available to come home right around our son’s birthday.  What a present!  And we joined the ranks of the Corgi owners.

As mentioned, I’ve been around dogs my whole life.  They’ve all pretty much been mutts, and most of them I’ve had as an adult were rescues.  Oh man, this Corgi is a different breed!  (Pun intended.)  This critter does things I never saw my other dogs do.  We’re in a social group with other Corgi owners locally, get the little rascal out for periodic gatherings at nearby dog parks where he can run with others of his kind (including many of his family!).  I’ve made these observations and asked these questions of that group too, but I think it’s probably therapeutic for me to put them here was well.  Any who knows, maybe some of you have Corgis and will sympathize and laugh along with me…or at me.

1. These are 30 pound dogs that think they’re 60 pounds.
2. They don’t know they have stubs instead of “regular” length legs.
3. They shed like massively shedding monsters.  I don’t know how a critter can shed more fur than they actually have on their body at any given time.  It may be a miracle.  Or something akin to a freak of nature.
4. These are mouthy dogs, in two ways.  First, they’re not a drooly breed, but they seem to have very wet mouths and noses.  They like to get your attention and “hold hands” with their soggy mouths.  When our pup plays with a toy, it gets soaked.  Second, they chew on things, a lot:  toys, baseboards, irrigation system emitters, cardboard boxes, just about anything in the bathroom trash can, etc.  Some stuff can’t taste good but it goes in the mouth anyway.  Even some of my son’s modeling putty.  Gads.
5. They are smart and stubborn.  Really smart, and really stubborn.
6. Related to #4, I can’t tell if sometimes they genuinely don’t get what you’re telling them or training them to do, or they totally get it and want to be sure you know they’ll listen when they feel like it.
7. Going along with the stubborn streak, if the dog wants to make a point, it seems peeing on the floor is an approved acceptable method in his mind.  We’ve had this knuckle-head for almost a year now and he’s definitely housebroken.  But if he gets mad or frustrated, he’ll pee on the floor to make his point.  He’s even done this within sight of the door to go outside.  At least once he’s done it right after he came in from the back yard.
8. Related and finally, it seems typical for this breed to pee when they’re nervous or excited.  I give up and accept peeing is a form of communication (beyond marking territory) for these little dudes.  Have your paper towels and cleaner readily available.  One time, there was this killer balloon—but that’s a story for another post.

All said though, these Corgis are very cool critters!  I never thought I’d like a breed of dog as much as this keeping in mind, most of the previous dogs were mutts and rescues.

Best of all, this little giant dog is definitely our son’s dog, and Paul is the dog’s boy.  They are two peas in a pod.  The pup pouts when Paul’s not around.  They play together and Paul’s bed is the one piece of furniture the dog is allowed on.  (We had to buy a little set of stairs so the pup could get up there though—so funny!)

So the boy is happy, the dog is happy, and therefore the parents are happy!

It’s great to be a dad!

Victory Martial Arts - Leadership Program

Following up from my last post, Paul has taken another step in his development as a martial artist and in his growth as a young man.

Not long after Paul earned his Orange Belt, our Chief Instructor talked to Steph and I about placing him into the Victory Martial Arts leadership program based on the potential he shows in class.  Around that same time, there was a special demonstration and instructional event hosted by the Victory schools here in Las Vegas, featuring several senior black belts from Orlando, Florida (the home of Victory Martial Arts).  During that event, Paul also caught the eye of the visiting leaders and we consented to have them publicly invite him to enter the leadership program.

A week later, at our school, one of the Chief Instructors at our school announced in front of his friends that Paul had joined leadership.  He received a new belt representing his participation in the program (an Orange Belt with a gold stripe in place of the usual black stripe), and a new leadership uniform.  

Since then, he attends an additional 30 minute training session twice a week following the normal Beginner’s class.  It’s fantastic.  In these sessions he trails with the small group of other leadership students in a more difficult, but also more fun, class.  While the practical focus is on more advanced knowledge and discipline, more complex forms and additional weapons, the goal within the school is to develop these kids into martial arts leaders as they work toward black belt.  As Paul continues to advance in rank he’ll attend his usual training and leadership lessons, but he’ll also start help the instructors when they teach the beginners class.  He’ll directly apply what he’s learning as he helps other students.

The character traits taught and fostered through Victory Martial Arts are: Respect, Self Esteem, Communication, Discipline, Honesty and Belief. As important as these are in the practice of martial arts, it’s more significant that the knowledge and practical experience Victory provides for the kids is intended to directly translate into a positive attitude and a lifestyle of action in the child’s behavior and performance at home, in school and eventually in their jobs and all of life.  After only three months we already see these life skills carrying over into the Paul’s life at home and at school.  On a humorous note:  recently we were leaving a restaurant with Paul.  As we reached the door, he quickly turned back to face our server and the folks who work there and in a strong voice thanked them by proclaiming, “Goodbye Sir, Goodbye Ma’am!”, then stepped outside.  It was already habit to be courteous and show respect to those who had just helped (or in this case served) him.  Obviously this wasn't required ore expected but the habit carried outside the school.  We were amused and very proud at the same time.

This has been a great time striving toward a goal as father and son!  We’re less than a month away from testing again.  This time Paul will test for his Yellow Belt and I’ll test for my Orange.  And not too long from now, Steph is going to join us in the program too.  What an amazing addition to the things we do throughout the week to build and strengthen the bonds that tie us together as a family  through shared experiences, struggles, and striving together toward a goal.  In the process we’re also getting more fit, and we’re making some amazing new friends as a family!

It’s great to be a dad!

Our "Karate Kid"

Nine weeks ago my son began taking Taekwando lessons through an American Taekwando Association school called Victory Martial Arts—something he’s been asking to do for almost a year.  Steph and I kept putting it off simply because he’s been playing soccer for three years and at the end of each season he kept asking us to sign him up again.  At the end of last season, he told us he was tired of soccer and wanted to do something new, and asked to start martial arts instead of soccer.  So we signed him up!

As an athlete, I’ve been an “individual sports” kind of guy my whole life.  Maybe it’s fairer to say that I enjoy sports that I compete as an individual in.  Not that I’m not a team player or enjoy the community of team sports, but there’s something about how I’m wired that drew me to cross country running, and in High School, Kenpo karate.  While we encouraged Paul’s participation in soccer, there are all kinds of signs he’s wired the same way I am.  I wasn’t surprised when he grew tired of soccer and was even less surprised when he continued to ask to participate in martial arts.  (He also says he wants to run with me, but I haven’t convinced him to start yet.)

Steph and I are working the life-balance issues with Paul, just as all parents do with their kids.  We have a pretty stable routine that we believe best ensures he continues to do well in school (including getting his homework done in a disciplined manner), but not to squelch time during the week for him to participate in some form of physical activity (sports), and time to just play and fuel his imagination (LEGO, video games, etc.).  He knows school is always the priority, but we want him to have plenty of time to explore the other things that keep a life balanced/full/colorful.  In all these things, he has his circles of friends, and in most cases they overlap, creating a cool, common thread that connects all these major aspects of his life.

I’m pretty sure Paul doesn’t know just how thrilled I am that he’s involved in martial arts.  As I’ve watched him these past couple months, I’m remembering and reliving the thrill, challenges, pain, and excitement of learning and doing new things physically and seeing the tangible achievements (mental and physical focus, balance, confidence, etc.), especially represented by working hard and advancing to the next belt.  This past week, Paul tested for the first time and moved from White Belt to Orange Belt.  He was more nervous than I think I’ve seen him be about anything.  Steph and I worked through it with him as best we could.  Most of the time both of us were at every practice since he joined the school, and one of us was always there.  We were his champions, his encouragers, his cheerleaders when he practiced at home and during lessons.  As with so many things in life though, we can’t do this for him.  When testing time came, he had to take the test and perform the necessary elements in front of other White, Orange and Yellow Belts…and the Black Belts.  Yes, the Chief Instructor has the Black Belts test on the same evening as the junior belts.  The Black Belts were amazing examples for the young martial artists, and the advanced students also championed and cheered the new students as they took these first steps toward earning their own Black Belts.  Even with all the encouragement and practice, several of those testing to advance in the junior belts didn’t pass.  Some of the Black Belts didn’t pass either.  In this they became amazing examples to the lesser experienced athletes.  The parents were well represented at testing too—for the White Belts testing for the first time, all the way up to the Black Belts testing for the next degree!  It warmed my heart to see the amazing turnout by the parents and even other friends, many of whom brought signs and noise-makers to encourage the kids and adult students.

Paul worked through his nervousness and did amazing with his forms (with and without his weapon).  He struggled with board breaking though—the event we knew he was the most nervous about.  Along with several others, on his final attempt he broke his board and the crowd went wild, for Paul and every other athlete who tried so hard!

So, Paul has begun a new adventure in his life:  the practice of martial arts and the pursuit of a Black Belt.  But wait, there’s more.  As I mentioned, I participated in martial arts (over 30 years ago!).  This week I’m going to begin to train again, in a new style and with my son at the same school—Dad and Lad, racing each other toward a Black Belt.  And by racing I mean encouraging each other.  Paul’s excited about this, and so am I.  And since he’s a full training cycle and one belt ahead of me, I’m having fun pointing out that in this this thing we’re doing, he’s beating dad.  He’s already getting used to hearing me say, with a huge grin on my face and a high-five:  “don’t let me catch you, son!”

As always, it’s great to be a dad!

Realizing Your Mortality

Readers:  this post covers a heavier issue than usual.  I hope it’s useful to you now or at some point regarding how you may address the issue of mortality with your kid(s) or young people that you might have the opportunity to mentor.  

Early this month my son woke up crying in the middle of the night.  When Steph and I went to his room, he said he dreamt he was “buried in the ground under dirt before it was his time to die.”  He went on to say through his tears, “I don’t want to grow up and die.”  It’s important here to point out this wasn’t a horror movie kind of dream.  He wasn’t buried alive or anything like that.  He said he saw himself as if he was buried after he had died and clearly knew what had happened.

My son turns seven in February.  When I was a child, not much older than he is now, I also became aware of my own mortality.  I can’t recall anything in particular that could have triggered this realization, but I remember there were two related things that struck me heavily at that point in my young life.

First, I realized I was growing older, and as that continued, I would lose interest in the things that I liked to play with and do as a child.  It was obvious to me because I never saw any adults (my parents included) playing with anything I liked to play with or frankly doing anything I thought was fun at that young age.  That made me sad because from my young perspective I had some cool stuff and did some pretty fun things!  Everything about life was an adventure and I never wanted it to end.  But I could see movement toward a time when I wouldn’t enjoy these things.

I think the second revelation was a result of the first. I realized someday I would grow old enough that life as I understood it would end:  I would die.  I think it’s important to say I don’t remember knowing anyone who had died, or even being aware of anyone actually dying, but the simple logic of my young mind allowed me to put the pieces together.  This had a real impact on my life for several years to follow, as I wrestled with what it all meant.  Honestly, outwardly I was a regular kid, but inside I was distracted by my own mortality.

I don’t talk about it often in this blog, but it’s not something I hide either: I’m a Christian and as a result, I hold to the hope hope that when life in this body ends, I don’t simply cease to exist.  I wasn’t brought up this way though, nor did I experience anything akin to a conversion at that young age when I wrestled with the concept of death.  I mention this because as a child in what was practically an unchurched family, my parents didn’t have anything to offer me in the form of an explanation or context—not from a Christian point of view, or any other.  Life was just life.  Apparently you live, and then you die.  End of story.  

I remember at the point the frailty of life gelled in my mind, I was sick with a cold—a cold and nothing more.  But I was sick and as a result, a bit miserable.  In the middle of the night (like my son), and not directly related to being sick, I became aware enough of mortality that I sought the comfort of my parents.  I went into their room and as they comforted me I expressed to them my realization that I would die someday.  Looking back it was a bit of a funny moment, but when I told my mom I knew I was going to die and that it was disturbing me, she responded in an attempt to comfort me by saying, “you’re okay, you’re not going to die, you only have a cold.”  She didn’t understand that I wasn’t talking about having a cold, nor was I worried I’d die from it.  I can’t be critical.  What parent comforting a young child with a cold would ever think the issue at hand was actually the realization that death is a part of life.  I didn’t try to explain my struggle any further, they ultimately calmed me down, and sleep visited me again thanks to a soft back rub and the tiredness associated with the middle of the night.

Thoughts of the reality of my own mortality burdened me though for several years to follow, stealing some of the enjoyment from many of the things that were a part of my life.  It was a nagging preoccupation.  That brings me back to my son.  I remember struggling with the same thing and have worked to encourage his concerns by offering hope that there’s more to life than just life in the bodies he sees.

My son’s struggle with this issue does differ from mine in an important way :  he’s definitely aware of two deaths.  I blogged about losing my dad in August 2012.  My son was old enough to be very aware of what was happening as we visited my dad when he passed away, then during the memorial service in the days to follow, and finally when we interred him at Arlington National Cemetery a few months later in December.  Much less significant, but every bit as much real, we had to put our cat down just before we traveled to Arlington.  My son loved the cat and I’m sure he’ll always consider him his first pet.  

Although these things happened over a year ago, Paul has continued to talk about it regularly.  Not in a bad way, but it’s clear he’s continued to wrestle with mortality, and it seemed to come together in some way when he had his dream.  Since then I’ve worked to encourage him based on my own beliefs, and he seems to be handling it well.  One of the recurring discussions we have when he makes me aware he’s thinking about these things is that while we believe life goes on after our bodies die, it’s okay to be sad when we lose someone here.  It’s okay that we’re sad because we can’t see them like we used to any longer.  It’s also okay that we remember those we love who have preceded us in death.  And as a Christian, we can take comfort in the hope we’ll see our loved ones and friends again some day.  For those reading this who hold an orthodox or reformed Christian view, I’m sure you’re wondering how I’m dealing with the teaching that in death, everyone doesn’t go to Heaven.  I’m doing my best to be careful not to say (or imply) that everyone goes, but I’m also being careful not to lead my son down the path where I shatter any hope.  He’s not ready to have that larger and much more heady discussion just yet.  For now and for him:  all the hope I can offer a child with the stage set for the deeper discussion later.

We often hear the word “closure” associated with the passing of a loved one.  A year later, with all the understanding I can muster after losing dad, I think I’m mostly there.  Not completely, but mostly.  A way I describe where I am in the healing process: the open wound is closed and a scar is forming, but it’s still very tender.  Some days I think my son is farther along than I am; other days I’m convinced he’s not.  I do my best to understand all of this from his young perspective, not to make too much or too little of it all, keep it in perspective, and just be his loving (and living) dad.  My own childhood struggle with the matter of mortality certainly helps me with this.  I know this though:  it’s a privilege to be my son’s dad, and to be by his side as he continues to wrestle with it all.  There aren’t words to explain how special it is to be the man he turns to for explanation and comfort, to share what he’s thinking, and to cry and laugh with about anything and everything.  I get to watch him grow!

It’s great to be a dad!

I Didn't Mean to Scare Him

It’s happened to many of us before, I’m sure.  I was supposed to be a tender moment, and I scared my son.  It was the middle of the night and he was asleep.  He’d been fidgety all night, having dreams, talking in his sleep, and tossing and turning.  At one point it sounded like he might have been awake so I got out of bed and went to his room to see what was up.

He appeared to be sound asleep.  If he had awakened, he was already back in dreamland.  Or maybe he never woke up and it only sounded that way.  I went over and stood by his bed for a while just watching him, gently adjusted his sheet and blanket, then stood a bit longer to see if he would stir.  Nothing.  He was out, and for the moment quiet and still.  So cute and peaceful.

It was time to head back to bed myself so I slowly knelt down on his bed and leaned over to give him a gentle kiss.  This is nothing out of the ordinary.  Every night before I go to bed, I walk back to his room to check on him.  I always give him a kiss and whisper in his ear that I love him, I’m proud he’s my son and I’m proud to be his dad.  This was no different other than it was in the middle of the night.  As I leaned down, just a foot or so from his face, he opened his eyes, saw me and screamed.  I felt horrible!

As quick as he was scared by the presence of someone so close to him, he realized it was just me.  I had also moved my face back from his a bit and said, “it’s okay buddy, it’s just me.”  Recognition set in immediately and I moved back in, now to comfort and hug and hold him.  He latched on, and out of breath, quietly said, “dad, you scared me.”

“I know, son.  I’m so sorry.  I just came in to check on you.  I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Catching his breath, “I know, dad.”

“I really love you, son.  Please don’t be scared.  I’ll always protect you.  I never want to scare you.”

“I love you too, dad.” And he held me tighter.

He quieted back down, faster than I would have thought possible after scaring him so bad.  Within a few minutes he was back to sleep.  I re-adjusted his sheets, gave him the kiss I had intended to give him at first, and whispered my usual affirmation of love to him in his ear.  As I started to move away and off of his bed, on the cusp of sleep he whispered back,  “I love you too dad.  I’m proud to be your son.”

That young and amazing boy broke my heart twice in just five minutes.  First because I felt so bad that I had scared him, knowing there was no way to undue that moment.  Then, with his sweet words of love back to me.  I left his room knowing the last thing on his mind as he went back to his world of dreams was my love for him.

It’s great to be a dad!

A Big Month!

First there was Free Comic Book Day, then Steph and I went away for a week-long vacation visiting friends and attending a convention on the east coast without our son, and shortly after our return the school year ended with Paul finishing kindergarten.

May the 4th (be with you)...Free Comic Book Day.  Yes, being the geek parents we are, we have a favorite local comic book store and took Paul to pick out a few issues and enjoy the costumes.  And boy did he!  He went in costume himself and was a hit with everyone there.  At his request we pulled out an old Halloween costume and transformed him into a little Bobba Fett.  When he arrived he was instantly greeted and flanked by by a few fellow Star Wars characters:  a Stormtrooper and a full-sized member of the Fett clan.  Our son told my wife, "This is the best day of my life!"

Toward the end of the month it was time for the convention.  I completely trust my in-laws with Paul, but I think I suffered from something akin to fatherly separation anxiety.  As I think I’ve said before, I miss my son when he’s in the next room asleep.  For my wife and I to be on the opposite side of the country for a week was a little stressful for me.  I’ve been on trips before, but Steph’s been home.  This time it was both of us going and while we had confidence he’d do well, listen to what he was told, and have a good time, there was really only one way to find out:  so off we went!  We had a blast at the convention and Paul had a blast with his grandparents, but this was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done as a father, and maybe in my life.  We spoke with him several times through the week and it was all fun and games.  The conversations weren’t long.  He was so busy having fun he’d give us a quick data-dump, and then off he’d go.  It warmed my heart to see how comfortable he was!  His behavior was great for his grandparents and at school, he did everything he was supposed to, and best of all he didn’t stress over our absence.  It was a great relief to know he took it all in stride.  (In fact, I think our dog stressed more than anyone, but she’s clingy and defensive.)  When we returned home, Paul was happy to see us, mostly because he could finally tell us about his adventures playing games, going on walks and especially playing in the pool.

I’m sure fathers who have gone around this track before understand--as a father this was a big step for me.  I think the same was true in a different way for our son.  Each of us grew a little (or maybe a lot) due to the experience and I’ve had the privilege of watching my son take a small but major step in his growth.  I’m happy to see this level of independence in him.  As I pray with him every night: I’m thankful and proud that he’s my son, and that I’m his dad.

Then, school ended this past week and we’re now the proud parents of a graduated kindergartener / brand new first-grader.  Paul did well this year at school and I’m confident he’s very ready to enter grade school.  For him it means next year he gets a new teacher and new friends in class, but Steph and I have made a bit of a big deal about it with him, pointing out we’re proud of him for being a first grader now and for how well he did this year.  He’s already excited rather than nervous about it, and we’ll reinforce this with him toward the end of the summer.  In the meantime, summer break is here and we’re swinging out efforts toward encouraging him to enjoy the fun and the days away from the classroom.  I’m pretty sure we won’t have a problem with that and if this summer is like the last two, he’ll tell us he’s ready for school sometime during the last month of summer break.  I love this lifetime adventure and as always...

It’s great to be a dad!

What Is A Young Adult?

I just recently became aware of the NPR list of Best Young Adult Fiction.  I came across this list because of a small controversy resulting from a book they excluded:  Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card.  The controversy isn’t about Ender’s Game specifically, but about why it was excluded balanced against what made the list.

While I’m definitely a fan of Ender’s Game, and the saga this book begins, this post isn’t about arguing why Ender’s Game should or should not be on a list of acceptable YA novels.  Instead, it seems one of two things is happening at NPR:  1) giving NPR the benefit of the doubt, they’ve confused what it seems should be the obvious difference between a young adult and a child, or 2) NPR has an agenda and has excluded Ender’s Game based on either a bias against the book (unrelated to the discussion about age-appropriateness) or the author.  While the latter is possible, the more important issue is about how we as parents decide to put appropriate material in front of our kids: books, movies, etc.

NPR says they excluded Ender’s Game (as well as at least one other book) from the final list because “while Ender himself is young, the book’s violence isn’t appropriate for young readers.”  Even so, they still included other books like Lord of the Flies and Dune on the final list, both of which contain stunning depictions of violence.  This exposes two problems.  NPR acknowledges the first: “no reader’s poll will ever be truly objective.”  If for no other reason, a panel of judges can’t and won’t ever apply a rigid standard to a body of diverse literary works, each of which is unique.  The best we’ll ever get is an organized mess.  The second problem revolves around what they asked for: recommendations for a list of the Best Young Adult Fiction.

When I see “young adult” I take the words at face value and acknowledge the phrase very obviously includes the word adult.  While 13 seems to be a generally agreed upon age for differentiating child from young adult, there isn’t a clear line.  Why? To state the obvious again: like every adult in the world, every child is an individual with a complex set of reasons why they are who they are.  At a specific age, some kids excel at certain things while others don’t.  Some fear things that others don’t.  They each deal with all the aspects of life presented to them differently and this is true for violence.  My problem with what NPR has done trying to compile a YA list of books is that they showed us they don’t have the ability to differentiate between children who aren’t yet young adults, and those who are.

I suggest there’s really only one body, one committee, one panel of judges that can form such a list of movies, literature, songs and other wonderful manifestations of art: each child’s parents.  For each child, the panel of judges is as large as the parents responsible for that little person.  (NPR: the number tends to be one or two, unless you include extended family.)  Mom and Dad, are you familiar with what your kids are reading?  Have you read the material yourself?  Hopefully, to the best of your ability, the answer is “yes” to both questions.  No one knows your child better than you do, or no one should.  Other parents, friends, teachers: they’re all an incredible part of the cultural cloud that we and our kids operate in and draw support from, but your child is your child, not theirs.  With all due respect to those who advocate the position that “it takes a village” what that village contributes is and should always be limited.  My wife and I had our son.  He is the human product of our love for each other.  Sorry village, but you weren’t there; the door was locked and the blinds were drawn, on purpose.  And now our son first and foremost is our responsibility to raise.  Village, and NPR, you are the supporting cast.

Are lists like the one NPR created valuable?  They sure are, but often, they end up being only interesting.  Regardless of who creates a list like this, I hope parents don’t use it as a suitable substitute for exercising their own judgment.  I remember several of the books on the NPR list.  There are many I’ve never read and some I’ve never heard of.  In the end, my wife and I will focus our son on the books we know are proven based on our own reading, then on the recommendations of people we know and trust.  For unknown books, we’ll probably read them first, at least until we know our son is old enough to make determinations on his own about the value of what he can take away from any piece of literature.  We’re also aware this is constant work since that list will change constantly, with his age and experience.

So what is a young adult?  Well, I suspect it’s similar to art: I can’t give you a rigid answer but you’ll know it when you see it.  NPR, I think you bit off more than you could ever chew and I’m not sure your list really matters.  It’s too long and you can’t lock down what you meant when you said “young adult.”  I know my own son though and will continuously put good books in his hands as a child, into his young adult years once he’s there, and even when he’s indisputably an adult.  And yes, he’ll definitely read Ender’s Game when he’s old enough, probably when he’s a “young adult.”

This parenting stuff is hard, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world!

You can find my review of the original four Ender's Saga books (Ender's Game, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide and Children of the Mind) under my profile on Goodreads.  

It’s great to be a dad!

Here are links to the original article and NPR posts that caught my attention:

1. http://www.enderwiggin.net/2012/07/24/npr-calls-enders-game-too-violent-young-readers/
2. http://www.npr.org/2012/07/24/157072526/best-ever-teen-novels-vote-for-your-favorites
3. http://www.npr.org/blogs/monkeysee/2012/07/24/157311055/best-ya-fiction-poll-you-asked-we-answer
4. http://www.npr.org/2012/07/24/157111862/young-adult-fiction-finalists

Why?

We’re there.  We arrived there sometime during this last year and we can’t seem to leave.  Where is “there” you ask?  We’ve found ourselves in the “why” zone.  We’re not surprised; we knew it was coming.

This will bring back memories for those of you with kids who passed through this stage.  For those with kids on the way, or with kids younger than ours, this might help you prepare for...why.  It goes a little something like this:

Me:  Son, stop standing on the couch.

Paul:  Why?

Me:  You’ll fall off.

Paul:  Why?

Me:  Because you’re not being careful.

Paul:  Why?

Me:  I don’t know why, but we don’t stand on the couch anyway.  You don’t see your mom and I standing on the couch.

Paul:  Why?

Me:  Because it’s not proper to stand on the couch.

Paul:  Why?

Me:  Look son, gravity and I are the law; we must be obeyed.  Get down.

Paul:  Why?

As you can imagine it goes on without end, or until my wife or I break the conversation.  We do our best to avoid the dreaded “because I said so,” but have invoked that on rare occasion.  Let’s face it, we all hated it as kids, it was probably overused by all of our parents, but when it comes right down to it, it’s a good enough answer at times.  Parents have authority over their kids and sometimes that’s all the child needs to know.  That said, I’m still not a fan of “because I said so” as the primary reason for everything.  I think one of the most important things I can do for my son is offer explanations for things, hopefully in a manner that resonates with him at his age.  I think that reinforces the reasons behind what I say, and builds confidence and trust in my son.  Later, when I tell him something and time or circumstance doesn’t permit an explanation, he’ll accept the short answer knowing that his mom and I don’t give him guidance that isn’t thought out.

But back to the current game of “why”.  As the game has unfolded this year, I’ve learned to tell (most of the time) when my son is asking a genuine question and when he’s playing.  Yes, it’s actually a game for him at times.  This became clear when, one day as I was turning to him to make it clear I was tired of answering why about everything I was telling him to do, I saw it:  the grin.  So I continued a little longer and sure enough, every time I answered him, he grinned and asked again, “but why?”  My frustration evaporated.  Why?  Because there aren’t too many things cooler than seeing your young son’s sense of humor develop.  It brought a grin to my face then, and even now.

It’s great to be a dad!

4 and 47

My son is four.  I’m 47.  That’s quite a spread.  With all the “wisdom” 47 years brings to a man, my four year old son humbled me the other day and it hit me like a board between the eyes.

Paul is awesome.  He’s been as good as we could have ever hoped for.  He listens to Steph and I just about all the time.  But like any four year old, he’s aware of his own wants and desires, sees when they come into conflict with what we want him to do, and at times tries to protest or appeal to us to let him do something other than what we want.  When this happens, we rarely hear a simple “no” or “I don’t want to.”  Instead, the young man constructs an argument to explain to us why he ought to do what he wants.  Although the content of the argument is simple, at times they’re pretty elaborate.

Guess what...I know what he’s going to say.  Shocked, right?  Okay, not really.  Like all parents, I get impatient after telling him multiple times what my position is on something (“No son, you can’t have a piece of candy until you eat your lunch.”), only to hear him try to argue me into changing my mind.  I end up firmly but gently reinforcing my position and not letting him continue with his well-intentioned point.

The other day, I interrupted him and affirmed my position on not eating candy for lunch.  He stopped and with a frustrated and slightly sad face told me, “Dad, let me tell you the whole thing first.”  Oops.  I’m a heel.  There was something going on in our back-and-forth just as important as the surface discussion about why he wasn’t going to eat junk food for lunch.  My son is learning how to form and argument in his mind, then express his position.  He argues with all the horsepower of a four year old and can’t win unless I relent.  The problem was I failed to remember he’s only four and I’m not arguing with a peer.  I need to let him say his piece, form and then make his argument, then lovingly stand my ground after he’s done.

In that instant and in the hurry of being a busy parent, my son had to remind me of something I believe is key to good parenting:  I’m responsible for preparing him to be a successful adult.  This includes encouraging the functioning of his young mind, even if it takes longer to tell him “no” than I want to take.  Ditto for other similar things!  This reminds me of something a pastor of mine said that applies to so much of life:  the old sacrifice for the young.  My son is amazing, and he’s four.  I need to encourage him on his level in a way that encourages him to develop so he’s best prepared to be five, 10, 15, and one day, an adult.

It’s great to be a dad!

Toys and Charity

My son’s bedroom in our new house is much smaller than his old room.  For perspective, his old room was the size of most master bedrooms; the new room is what anyone would consider a normal size for a kid’s room--no problem there.  But the boy has a ton of toys.  This is as much my doing as anyone else’s, but it’s going to force a change.  Fortunately, there’s a plan.  A good one.

Long before we had Paul, one of my sisters told me she was doing something with her kids as they got new toys.  As I recall it was for Christmas.  As her boys got new toys (as gifts), she told them they had to pick out old toys to give to kids who didn’t have toys of their own.  I loved the idea then, and even more so now.  Paul is old enough to understand.  He’s already very aware of the importance of sharing; this seems to be a next logical step.  Our recent move is fueling this, but if my plan works, we’ll apply this new practice throughout the year, certainly at key toy times such as Christmas and his birthday, but even as a form of Spring cleaning.

Steph and I will track down a local orphanage, shelter, or appropriate charity that puts used toys in good condition to good use.  I’m excited to see how this goes and hope Paul embraces this, and becomes an active participant in something charitable, especially at a young age.  Of course, we’ll be loving and gentle with this so he doesn’t think this compulsory or some sort of punishment.  If we succeed, he’ll participate and see this form of giving as something good and fun.

It’s great to be a dad!

Traveling with Kids

If you read my last post, you know we just returned from a convention, and Paul went with us as he has every year for the past three years.  The trip has always required air travel and specifically travel from Europe to the U.S.  I’ve bragged on my son a bit on Twitter (you can follow my parenting feed on Twitter @Somebodys_Dad) since the trip over and back this time were his 10th and 11th trans-Atlantic crossings by air.  When we move back to the U.S. later this month, he will have crossed the Atlantic Ocean 12 times during his four years of life.  All this ocean crossing began when we moved from the U.S. to Germany three years ago.

The travel this time was overall uneventful for us.  No doubt a good bit of the reason for this is Steph, Paul and I are veterans at this point.  What did catch my attention on the return trip to Germany was an incredible number of folks I can only call “rookie” travelers (and one incredibly incompetent steward--more on that fellow in a minute).  Of the rookies, there was a family directly in front of us who verged on incompetent.

Three years ago we made the move to Germany; our son was only a year and a half old.  In some ways that made it easy.  He wasn’t really mobile.  Other things made it difficult.  He traveled in a car seat.  There was nothing easy about two adults lugging our small son and the seat through the airport, getting the seat onto the plane with the push of all the other cattle down the narrow isles, etc.  But the complexity and pain was reduced through some prudent planning.  We did our homework and found creative and informed ways to make the journey easier.  We learned from other people’s mistakes and successes.

We were also polite even though we knew we were stressing.  This was our first long airline trip with our son (one and a half years old at the time) and even though we were armed with knowledge, it was the first time we were putting it into practice--knowledge certainly doesn’t replace experience.  Steph and I made a conscious decision not to get mad at each other; we were on the same team and would share in the joy of what worked, and frustration in what didn’t.  Also, we knew our son would sense our moods, driving us to be cautious about our collective demeanor.

At this point I have to admit I’m finishing this post as I sit in the airport with Steph and Paul.  We’re waiting for our flight from Stuttgart through Atlanta to Las Vegas; we’re moving.  I’ll post more on that later.  But I hope this flight goes as smoothly with our son as the previous eleven did.  Otherwise, a less than gentle reader might suggest I’ve jinxed myself...

Back to our last flight back to Stuttgart.  A couple with two kids, began occupying (by brute force) the row of three seats in front of us.  They were clearly unorganized, had not thought about allowing time to move through the airport at the speed of a child, or given real thought to how they planned on moving their own carry-on bags, two kids, and a car seat through the airport once they cleared security: in a world where no luggage carts dare roll.  By the way, you read what I wrote earlier correctly we’re watching a couple with two kids--four people.  Granted one was an infant, but the parents brought a car seat onboard for the little one rather than working the ticketing with an “infant in arms.”  The car seat obviously takes a seat, but somehow it escaped the parents.  Add a seat for mom and dad and the other child (probably about four years old) and it was clear there weren’t enough seats for butts.  Already visibly angry and frustrated when they entered the aircraft, now at their seats angry fidgeting ensued as the car seat was strapped into an airline seat, dad put the older child into another seat, and...the lightbulb came on.  You could literally see it in the dad’s face:  he booked three seats for four people.  Quiet but audible cussing ensued.  He barked at two different flight attendants for reasons that weren’t clear, then made an angry comment that the flight crew wouldn’t help them with “all of this stuff.”  Of course, I have to believe the flight crew assumed this angry adult was doing what he meant to do.  After all, he booked the flight and brought “all of this stuff” with him.

His wife finally showed up; apparently previously lost somewhere forward of us on the jet.  This was awkward.  The dad loved her enough to spawn to kids with her, but clearly she was a part of his problem, and an enemy, rather than a companion.  She suggested they check the car seat; he thought this was dumb and couldn’t be done.  Then he decided they should check the car seat and it was pure brilliance.  He angrily got the attention of the flight attendant; one of the same ones he earlier accused of not helping him.  Did I mention he never asked for help?  “I need to check this,” came out of his mouth, with a tone that made it clear it was the attendant’s fault that it somehow ended up on the plane.  At this point the flight attendant, while professional, had enough of this guy and told him, “I don’t check luggage.  Please take it to the front of the plane and see if they’ll let you gate check it.”  I know from my own travels that flight attendants always seem to offer to take bags that won’t fit to the front to have it checked.  I suspect this airline employee decided to live up to what he was openly accused of:  not being helpful.  The dad literally pulled the child out of the car seat, tossed the same child into the next seat, accompanied by crying since he caused one of the not-completely-unfastened straps to give a friction burn, followed by the child literally bouncing on the seat.  The dad disappeared with the car seat, leaving the two kids unattended.  Mom was once again nowhere in sight.

Both parents returned and began to settle into their seats, with the smallest child on mom’s lap.  An attendant came by again and having noticed the now absent car seat asked if either parent had re-ticketed themselves to show they were traveling with an infant in arms.  Of course not and you bet this added to the couple’s bad attitudes.  The attendant helped with this though.

In an effort to add some calm for the couple I finally spoke up and told them we were sympathetic to the difficulties of traveling with a little one, pointing out we were in a very similar position three years ago when we moved to Germany with our son in a car seat.  Guess what--he was angry with us too and snapped back, “well we’re moving and have to carry all this stuff.”  My wife pointed out a particularly useful contraption () that made moving through the airport with a car seat easy, allowing you to keep the child in it and roll it like a stroller.  On the plane, the device folds behind the stroller and stayed attached even when you strap it into the airline seat.  Perhaps this would be helpful for them to make a future flight easier.  They weren’t interested in any help from other parents.  That’s fine.  I guess he missed that we mentioned we had been moving too.  I decided sympathy wouldn’t help and politely told him to enjoy his trip.

Okay, this story’s gone on long enough to make the point.  One final point though:  we decided to book a seat for our son (rather than do the infant-in-arms thing) for two reasons:  our own comfort, and since it was a long flight, we didn’t have to worry about falling asleep with him in our arms and unintentionally dropping him on the floor.  Somewhere about six hours into the flight with both parents sleeping, mom dropped the baby on the floor.  The sound of the child hitting the floor woke me up.  If it didn’t, the baby’s screaming would have.  Dad appeared angry at mom for interrupting his sleep and didn’t seem to be concerned at all as to whether his infant child was hurt or not.  Nice.  With the dropping of the child as the capstone event, the rest of the flight was thankfully uneventful.

So what’s the point?  Doing your homework matters.  It doesn’t always mean everything goes smoothly, but it definitely eliminates some of the complications that otherwise accompany something as difficult as moving through airports with little-ones.  Even if it doesn’t, knowing about the difficulties you’ll face will be reduce the stress, and that makes for calmer and happier child...and parents.

Addendum:  I’m posting this after our journey is complete.  The trip went as well as all the previous trips with Paul.  I hope our experience helps someone else who might be traveling with a child on an aircraft for the first time, and that the trip is an adventure and not a burden.

It’s great to be a dad!