Small Surprises

In some ways parenting is sheer drudgery. But in a good way. Unless you're insane, you'd never give it up or wish it different. Well, maybe wish it a bit different, like wishing for more sleep when your kids are little.

For years parenting seems to be all about diapers and feeding, teaching and disciplining. Get through that and it can seem like parenting is only about driving, delivering the kids from point A to point B and then doing it all over again. I exaggerate only slightly; that's where I am right now -- the taxi service phase. Surely this is God's way of making you excited about the prospect of your children starting to drive.

This phase, when your kids are of school age, is delightful, if hectic. If you're like me, you might even start to think you have this whole parenting thing down pat. You know who your kids are -- their strengths and weaknesses. You know what to expect from them. And this is the dangerous part, I think. If you're not careful, you could start to put them into boxes and leave them there. This one does well in school. This one hates math. This one is an artist. This one won't ever eat anything deemed "squishy." You could easily compartmentalize and not see that your youngest, who you have always thought of as an athlete and outdoors guy, is an artist too. Surprise!

I think that surprises are the best part of parenting. Okay. In the future I might not think this is true. But right now I do.

This week Son2 surprised me. Out of the blue, he said, "Do you know what my favorite quote is?" Of course I did not, but I was expecting something funny. Instead he said, "'It's amazing what you can accomplish if you don't care who gets the credit.' Harry Truman said it. I love that quote. I think it's really true."

I was flabbergasted (the kid hasn't even worked in an office yet -- how does he know this is true?) -- and delighted. It's fascinating to me that at age eleven this could be his favorite quote. This is the kind of thing that makes me think -- wait, who are you?

On Mother's Day we went to DC, a favorite family tradition. It was a breezy, blue-sky day and we walked from the Metro to the Jefferson Memorial. A certain youngest child who is not particularly fond of museums and memorials might remember the dead rat floating in the tidal basin as one of the highlights of the trip (which he and his dad had to capture on camera), but his oldest brother was captivated by this Jefferson quote and took a picture of it with his phone:

"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be."

Surprise. This boy was already in my smart boy box. And my thinker box. But still, I was astounded. Really? You're fourteen, and you love this? I think teenage boys get such a bad rap. Most people are prone to put them in the unruly and obnoxious box.

Speaking of surprises, I surprised myself this week. The youngest has an injury, which he is, perhaps, grossly exaggerating. Hard to say. This is the sort of situation that reminds me that I don't have this parenting thing down pat. Hmmm, it's not particularly swollen, but you won't walk on it. So we made a trip to the ER and he is supposed to use this enormous CAM walker thing for a week until we follow up with orthopedics on Tuesday. Since all my children have a theatrical bent and this one in particular has an iron will, the situation is maddening. I believe he could walk on it just fine if he wanted to.

So I've been tempting him with a paintball birthday party that he and his brothers have been invited to on Saturday:
"Wow, you're not going to be able to play paintball if you can't wear a normal shoe and run around on it."
"I really hope you can play paintball. I'd hate to see you miss that."

Then, his oldest brother got in on the act. He started calling him wuss-cake:

"C'mon wuss-cake, come and get me."
"Gonna walk on that wuss-cake?"
"How ya doin', cake?"

I surprised myself by not stopping him. I usually put the kabosh on name calling, but I knew he was doing it to provoke his brother to walk. In fact, I was so irritated with the little dude that I wanted to call him wuss-cake myself.

Unfortunately, there was another surprise. The youngest kid's got a stronger will and a greater need for attention than I thought...