2007 Stories & Thoughts
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You fathers, provoke not your children to wrath September, 2007
You fathers, provoke not your children to wrath September, 2007
Yes, I know that the Biblical admonition is “you fathers, provoke not your children to wrath”, but couldn’t there be something there about children not getting under their father’s skin?
So today I had this large-hearted notion that we would have the best Daddy date ever and Avery and Bri would play croquet with their loving Dad in the backyard, learning sportsmanship and developing relational bonds that will stand the test of time. Benny followed his croquet ball happily around the concrete pad knocking it about 1 in 8 attempts. Our game commenced rather well until about seven minutes into it when Bri said she didn’t want to play because she wasn’t winning. We did manage to play four games, and after every game we put our hands together and said “1, 2, 3 Team!” to try to promote good sportsmanship. It was after the fourth game that things broke down and Avery kind of unloaded his frustrations that he had not won a single game. I took some minutes alone in quiet reflection, wandering around the backyard without talking to any of them for a while and then going up to the kitchen for some time, sort of the adult version of counting to ten…I probably made it to 4,000. Anyway, the next thought was to take the four children to the Prospect Park Zoo in Brooklyn, since we are members and it’s a beautiful day…. Great idea.
We had a wonderful time at the zoo, culminating in some unwanted adventure that spurred us to leave the premises rather surreptitiously, hoping that we would not be led away in chains. These really neat plastic/rubber-like lily pads along some Discovery Trail allow adventurous types to walk along them at the edge of a pond. Well, for some reason Avery took a running jump and hop-skipped his way onto two of them, eventually careening his way off of the third one and splashing feet-first into the very stagnant pond-water. “I’m sorry Daddy! Will I get a spanking! I didn’t mean to do it!” Were his first words as I lifted him out of 2 feet of muck and mire. As I was dragging Avery to shore I heard Benjamin wailing and looked to see him trying to climb out of the exact area that I had just rescued Avery from moments earlier. Down I run across the pseudo lily pads and rescue my youngest son from the slimy confines of a smelly turtle pond. Benny didn’t react with the kind of eloquence Avery had exercised, opting instead to wail as loud as possible for as long as possible. When I finally had them over by Corinne in the stroller, who was grinning at us all and kicking her feet in delight, I grimly asked them what they think I should do now? Benjamin demanded that I give him a bath on the spot. Avery again asked if I was going to spank him. Brianna looked scared.
So I courageously took the two rogues into the zoo bathroom with me and tried to wipe off their legs, which were full of mud, and do something about their sandals by washing them in the sink. The sink got plugged with all the grime from the sandals, and Avery started looking around furtively and practically yelling in some kind of a mock stage whisper that we better get out of there before the owner of the bathroom comes in and gets mad at us. There was dirt and debris and mud all over the bathroom floor, all over the sink, and all over the once-clean little yellow blanket we had brought along for Corinne. So far I wasn’t smiling.
Corinne started howling at that point. So we exited the bathroom with two very serious-faced boys exhibiting dirty pants and legs, and smelling like the pond I used to swim in as a boy. We hastened to the zoo exit, and then sat down on a concrete piling outside the exit to feed Corinne her bottle and further clean off the boys. I noticed a number of drivers/passengers who stopped at that light on Flatbush Avenue motioning our way and engaged in animated conversation. I don’t know if they were referencing the way the city has gone down in its homeless population “just look at the poor little four children with their derelict Dad out there” or maybe they were quoting passages from Tom Sawyer that had sprung spontaneously into their minds as they gazed at the apparitions in front of them. Whatever the case, I avoided eye contact with that set.
On the way back to the van, I began to sense my humor coming back, and decided to laugh it all off. Boys are great fun, really, and one must enjoy them to the fullest while they are boys. I pray that I would have the right balance of firmness and discipline mixed with grace and mercy in my times with my two boys and two girls, as they grow into adulthood in the next blink of an eye.
May God help us. Every one.
Rich