A Thought From Dad On Preparing For A Boy

Since the day Rebecca and I found out we were having a boy, I have been thinking of all of the fun things that I will be able to teach him and that we will be able to do together; just as my father and I did when I was growing up. However, that train of thought also led me to reminiscing about all the accidental, self-inflicted (and big brother-inflicted) wounds I received from being rambunctious, and all the headaches (not to mention trips to the ER) I caused my mom and dad (particularly my mom!).

Reflecting on it now I think fondly on all of those memories as they are ingrained in my memory as a part of my youth. Of course, now that I have a child of my own on the way, I have recently begun to think of those memories from my parents perspective. What was it like every time my brother Barrett came in the house yelling to our mom or dad "Will you come look at Braden and see if this needs stitches?"

According to Barrett, there was the time I "ran into the rock" that must have been levitating in the air and had to get stitches in my head that to this day cause a small bald patch in my hair. I could fill a novel explaining all the wounds and injuries I had while growing up (many, coincidentally, occurred when I was with Barrett) so I won't go into all the details. I will just say that as I reflect on those many times that I hurt myself, I now imagine my parents thinking to themselves, "My God, when will he grow out of this?"

With little Caleb on the way, I keep thinking to myself, "If Caleb is as active as his dad was, at what age will he grow out of accidentally breaking things (and himself)?" Well, I'm happy to say that earlier this week I discovered a definitive answer; I have absolutely no idea.

You see, apparently we are never too old to make a little mistake or have a little accident resulting in us getting hurt or possibly breaking something. Case and point: we have two small stairs that lead from our garage to a door into our house. Last year, within a month after we found out Rebecca was pregnant, she tripped going down those stairs. She fell straight down and severely sprained her ankle; she was on crutches for days. Well call it Karma, but after occasionally giving Rebecca a hard time for not being able to safely navigate these two tiny steps, earlier this week I made this same mistake. While walking into the garage, I tripped on those stairs, only I did not fall straight down. I fell straight left. Where there's a wall. A thin wall. From what I can remember of physics, I believe Force = Mass x Acceleration. However, in my equation, Mass x Acceleration = Destruction.

So as I have been thinking about the years to come and raising Caleb and asking myself "When did I grow out of that destructive stage?" the answer presented itself to me; I haven't. And I have the pictures to prove it.

Maybe we never fully outgrow that stage, but one thing I do know is that as we get older, the holes get a lot bigger!