I was at the lake yesterday, watching some young boys do what they do best – drive their parents crazy.
Bouncing, running, jumping, yelling, tripping – parents think in terms of vectors and tasks, while boys have limited interest in predictable patterns.
It can really mess with your head sometimes.
In the midst of those years, it can seem endless. You wonder if this whirling dervish that was once so cute in his crib will even survive into adulthood, let alone become stable and productive.
This week – this morning – one of my sons will be baptized. He’s a young man, he has made his own decisions regarding the footsteps of faith. He earned his biggest-ever paycheck this week and the pride in his face made my heart leap for joy as well. He is responsible, thoughtful, and observant toward others. He chooses friends wisely. He was the one that, as a toddler, I predicted would end up at some extreme end of the scale – he had a very high pain threshold and was not particularly fastidious about self-preservation.
He grew up. Your boy will, too.
Watching two young hellions driving their father nuts yesterday, I had to remind myself that they would be men too, in very short order. It happens. They’ll be trading little plastic army men for razors and lifeguard whistles.
And you’ll feel a pride swelling in your heart that you never anticipated. “That’s my boy!” the voice will echo in your mind. And he always will be your boy.
Even when he’s his own man.