Written by It was a Tuesday, and the routine was in full swing. Ethan had been running and playing all morning, and it was time to make him presentable for mom when she came to pick him up. Ethan had other plans, as Ethan is known to do.
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They say it’s your birthday
I am not much of a conversationalist…not really adept in the art of small talk and casual verbal exchanges. I am much better at one-way communication (I deliver; you receive; questions afterward; thanks for playing), and I thoroughly enjoy a passionate debate. But…these are often not the best communication styles when dealing with children. Especially teenagers. It is easier when they are younger. The conversations can be about anything and can (and often do) spring up from out of nowhere during the most unexpected moments. Their interests are innocuous, so there is no reluctance to say whatever is on their minds at the time, and there is no perceived threat when asked about their day or when pressed for details. You can be silly and ridiculous and it’s appreciated, it’s funny. When they break into the teen-years though, there becomes a sudden need for privacy. They want to introduce boundaries to conversational topics. Simple questions can be viewed as interrogations. The nonsensical things that were once hilarious are now lame. The rules seem to change; and the communication approach has to change along with them. I knew I would have to adjust my style or risk widening the communication gap I could see developing between me and Logan.
The jury is still out
There was a discussion topic on leadership that was introduced in one of my meetings a few months ago. It was a theme that I had heard before with different subjects, but the question was often posed in the same manner – if you were accused of being X (in this case a good leader), would there be enough evidence to convict you? The premise is that the audience, in silence, will take mental inventory of their achievements or actions against a given standard and either receive some affirmation or realize a gap exists and develop a plan to mitigate. Without fail, participants begin to nod thoughtfully as they appear to mentally check off every positive attribute and smile subtly to suggest that not only would there be enough evidence, but that the jury would return the verdict within a matter of seconds and ask openly why there was any question in the first place. While I love the confidence, I often find myself at odds with the individual assessments going on around me. If we’re honest with ourselves, we have to realize that in all of our endeavors there is room for improvement… that whatever level of mastery we have achieved to this point only signals progress, not arrival. Otherwise, we are fooling ourselves or robbing ourselves by buying into the lie of complacency. So, with that in mind, I began to contemplate. Not about leadership, but about fatherhood. The questions lingered… would anyone accuse me of being a good father? would there be any evidence to support the accusation? I couldn’t say. It’s been several weeks weighing on my mind… I just don’t know.
days of sand dollars and dolphins
No parking lot attendant. No check in station. No makeshift lot on a vacant parcel of land opportunistically guarded by an enterprising local. Just an empty space on a side lawn in a well kept neighborhood; there was no crowd and no hassle. We unloaded the kids and the gear and made our way past one of the stately homes down the side street toward the beach. The paved road came to a dead end quickly, and a gravelly path guided us toward a walkway that seemed to disappear into a grassy dune. We strolled our way up the sandy boardwalk; our path beset by reeds and wildflowers until the trail crested and the planks beneath our feet gave way to a sugary mound of soft warm sand. The stroller sunk down into the sand, but the mound sloped downward enough to allow gravity to lend a hand as we descended into a yawning entry and were introduced to the Atlantic Ocean.
Learning to fly (part 2)
The security agent unzipped the backpacks and laid them out on the screening table. Something within both of them had caught the attention and concern of the agent at the monitoring station. There were too many options to consider as to what the contraband could be, so I primed myself to stay ready to explain away whatever he pointed out. The boys started walking over. The security agent pulled out the lunchboxes that were packed in each of the backpacks. He slowly unzipped the first one.
