My boy ‘B’ was hysterical yesterday morning.

You know, kids are the greatest things ever when you have them. Not everyone has them, you know. So really I can’t say they are the greatest thing ever for everyone. For me they are.

Imagine alarms going off and you’re 10 years old and being rushed into a safe room.  Yes, a ‘safe room’. And you are 10 and you know it is called a ‘safe room’. ‘B’ is smart. I’ve mentioned that before. Now when I say smart, I don’t just mean the kind that every parent talks. The boy is actually gifted. Freaky smart. He does math in his head in a way that just freaks me out. He tries to explain it and I just stare at him and nod.

He had a teacher that said never try to fix what isn’t broken. He has a gift for it so leave him alone. No problem there, dudette.

But you know what? He’s 10 years old. We forget how our kids are kids these days. They are pushed to be older. People say, “You can’t protect them forever, you have to let them grow up sometime.” or “They can’t watch Public Television forever.”

Pardon me as I revert to a full blown parental mode for a moment. “Shut up, you freakin’ jerks!”

I’m better now. Can you believe I was told that I should let my, what, maybe 4 year old watch shows with guns in it, like violent cartoons and play with toy guns? That he had to learn sometime about guns? That is when my calmer Dad side came out, “When he is old enough to know the difference between real guns and toy guns, one that kills and one that looks real but squirts water, then he might play with toy guns or watch TV shows with a touch more animated violence.” The conversation ended there. It was made clear that parenting of my son was my business.

Do you want to know what ‘B’ watches on his own? He watches Public Television, yes the cartoons, because they are educational. Yes, he likes to learn about animals and dinosaurs and books. And guess what? He likes to watch This Old House and Antiques Road Show. I will walk through the room and he’s watching them discuss  a Civil War rifle and he starts telling me about it.

A child is a parent’s life. At least until they leave the house after graduating. At that point, so long, don’t come asking for money, and keep your laundry to yourself.

But at the age of 10 and 45 minutes from you, in a ‘safe room’ with alarms constantly sounding? The child is your life.

Yesterday . . . here, I was mostly fine . . . in this location. My son however ended up right in the line of fire . . . of a Tornado. Fortunately he got there before the bottom fell out of the sky.  Actually the bottom fell out before he got there but was close enough.

Of course my day was spent watching the weather maps. Checking for what it was like when it was time for him to leave. He left his school about 20 minutes before another Tornado came through. Fortunately he was picked up about 30 minutes early.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well this is my blog, and this is where I share things. I used to keep all of this inside so he wouldn’t see the worry, and I still do. You see I am the calm one. I am the one that doesn’t make a big deal out of things. How that is, I have no idea? But apparently I have this thing with kids, even though I never really liked them much. Unless you are a child that I call my own, I tend not to really like you much. No, that’s not quite right. I simply do not seek out your attention.

So what happens? I am like that person that can’t stand cats who visits a person with a cat. The cat can tell something is not right. It knows you are paying it extra attention for some reason so it decides to give you extra attention.

When I would be in a classroom of 1rst grade students, if I sat down there would be one in my lap in seconds. Now I love little girls. What man does not want a little Daddy’s girl? But that’s a big uh uh. So here I am, Fibromyalgia and Osteoarthritis, not knowing any of that yet, and having to stand for 8 hours.

Yes, I look like a big red teddy bear.

So I have rambled a bit longer than I intended, not that I intended to ramble. And now I am at the end.

Kids are great. When you get mad at your kid, and you know you will, think of ‘safe room’ and your child being led away to a ‘safe room’. Then decide if you are still mad.

 

Much Respect

 

 

 

 

Ronovan

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