I first discovered this when Gabriel, at just over a year old, walked right into the garage door….as it was opening. “Son, come on. You’ve gotta wait until the door opens.” But, alas, there was my boy…clothes lined by the garage door. Then he was climbing the
Then, Noah (or, Larry, if you will) was born. Poor, little guy never had a chance. With Curly knocking chairs over on him and those pesky garage doors (yes, he did it too. The same thing… “Come on, son….”) he was doomed from the start. He has now busted his lip for the second or third time (we lose count), broken his arm, scratched his face, been smacked countless times with various objects by his big brother (Curly) and he is just beginning the “Stooges” years. He’s not even two yet!
We all remember the “Stooges” years. We all had them. Maybe your enemy wasn’t the garage door. Perhaps it was that step you never could remember was there. Maybe that chandelier your grandmother refused to hang higher than four feet from the ground. Maybe it was always forgetting that you should stand back when your friend is swinging the bat. Whatever it was, we were all there.
Now, I must to tell you something. Kids, sons especially, cause some sort of mysterious degeneration. Though never graceful by any means, I have noticed that I have to be careful not to come out of every day bruised. So, consequently, my wife gets to deal with the Three Conooges.
Fathers, a word to you. Though, the time will come when our children will be coordinated, graceful and show unlimited common sense, they must first gain an understanding of gravity, the importance of looking forward….when walking forward, the fact that they grow taller and countertops don’t and the timing of a good garage exit. Until then, good luck to us all…nyuk, nyuk.