The park, the future, and the checking in

Saturday~June 20, 2009

We go to the little park in our neighborhood nearly every day. Normally there’s hardly anyone there because we live smack dab between two large cities, but a college and a golf course seclude us. So yesterday when the park was bombarded with a group of water gun wielding boys with sweaty faces all red from the heat, we were a bit surprised.

Bang! Bang! Bang! I gotcha! I’m gonna kill ya! POW!

We sat and watched for a few minutes as the boys carried on with their pretend war. After a few minutes I got to witness one of the distinct differences between my two boys. They each handled their park being overtaken by a band of violent water gun carrying hoodlums very differently.

Miles lurked. I mean, if he were reading blogs, he’d go undetected. He’d undermine any site meter. Anyway, he ducked under slides and positioned himself behind poles like an agent on the trail of America’s very most wanted. He didn’t make a sound. He just watched, mouthing all kinds of responses and certainly imagining the demise of the intruders at his hand. Occasionally he’d (stealthily) check in with me, quietly pointing out the whereabouts of his enemies. Then he’d be off again, his shoes flinging up tiny pebbles as he ran.

He never talked to the aggressors, who remained loud and boisterous, but I could tell he really really wanted to tell them he’d like to either kick them out, or join in on their game. And soon enough he was a silent part of it, slinking his way in without disturbing anyone. The bigger boys stopped here and there as if surprised to find they had a small joiner. But one look at Miles and they just carried on, including him in their antics.

That Miles, he approaches things carefully, tentatively sizing up the situation and slowly gaining the confidence that defies his chewed fingernails and racing heart.

Asher, on the other hand, sat at the end of his slide the whole time we were there, casually and repeatedly asking me to dump the tiny pebbles from his shoes while guarding his territory. He occasionally pointed and grunted, making sure I was aware that there were other people, very loud and crazy people, at the park. “Yes I see, Sweetie. Thanks for checking in.”

When the big boys grew closer, their game moving toward the toddler area where Asher and I were sitting, Asher’s small slide was suddenly being approached.

BANG! You’re dead! I gotcha!

Without hesitation, Asher picked up one of his shoes, pointed it directly at the biggest boy in the group and yelled, “pew pew pew!” He was loud and focused, eyes full of bravado, obviously very proud of himself and his shoe gun. So the bandits shrugged and ran off into the trees.

That Asher, he doesn’t think twice, he just moves. He acts. A flash of fear and then a powerful response.

These two boys of mine, so entirely different in so many ways, but equally totally awesome.

What will this mean for school, for love, for life? I can’t wait to watch, and I hope they always know they can stop by to check in with me.