“It’s not amazing that adults make children,” I’ve heard it said, “so much as that children make adults.”
Today I took the lads to Santa Cruz for some good times at the beach boardwalk. They were generally great, but just trying to keep them around & unflattened by crowds can get wearying. Their “predictably irrational” approach to walking—endless weaving & start-stops, seemingly perfectly coordinated to be out of sync with each other—inevitably grinds on a parent’s nerves.
Thus after 4+ hours we found ourselves leaving Marianne’s Ice Cream shop, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel—or more specifically, the door to the child-securing implements in the Ocho. As I towed Henry towards the door, Finn kept jerking in front of me, causing my cow-catching hand to keep grazing his head to urge him forward. Cue the following conversation (in front of some biker chicks):
Finn: “Dad-O! I hate it when you poke me like that! Just all, blah blah with your hand!”
Me: “I know, dude, but why can’t you guys just walk like a normal person?? Just head out in a direction and keep going.”
Finn: “But I like to walk like this! [proceeds to demonstrate weaving, pausing, etc. in front of me]”
Me: “I know!! And see, it just really wears out a grown-up, and—”
Finn: “But that’s just The Life Of The Kid!!”
…at which point, the biker chicks started cracking up, and so did I.
“You know, Finny,” I told him, “I’ve never been a dad before, and you guys have never been kids before, so we kind of have to teach each other patience, okay?” Okay, he said. I think we’ve got ourselves a deal.