Our subject was approaching five now. I
have a two story tree house in my yard, for the children around me. To keep the
small children below, and safe, a knotted rope must be climbed to reach the
second floor. Well, it didn't work out right. The older children could not do
it. Guess who did? You guessed it. Right to the top. When I arrived on the
scene, he was on the second floor roof, singing a song to celebrate his
accomplishment.
Time for the church fish fry. Our friends
host this at their farm. Some of my wife's family were there, along with our
subject. My wife has a large family, lots of kids, from 5 to 12. A couple of the girls, 12 years old, ran the
show. The older boys, 10 and 11, ran from these girls. For good reason.
Well, one of the older girls climbed up on
a tractor. Our subject started up. She gently put her foot against his face,
pushed him back. He needed to know his place. A major mistake. He came back,
tiny fists flying. All night he pursued her. When he found her, he always
attacked, fists flying. He finally graduated to a stick. When a rescuing parent
was finally brought to the scene, she was back peddling, “Get away from me, you
little kid!”
On the way home, he was counseled wisely
by his older brother. “You just can't do that,” he said, “to older kids. They
will beat you up!”
“They may beat me up,” he replied, “But I
will hurt them while they do!”
He's at the top of the kid pecking order
now. When older kids see trouble with him on the horizon, they run tell us.
They want no part of having to fight a small bundle of fury again, again, and
again.
When kindergarten rolled around, his
mother took him to preschool visitation. It was at the school his parent's
badly wanted him to go to, as his older brother was there. But, the
kindergarten classes were about filled up, and his chances were slim. We had
all stressed to him about respecting and obeying the Principal. We had no idea
what might happen in a school situation, because of his nature. When they
signed in, he asked, “Is the Principal here?”
“Yes, she's over there.”
“I would like to meet her.”
When the secretary called her over, his
mother told her, “I have a young man here who wants to meet you.” And, she
added, privately, “So, run with it!”
The principal, a very large, tall, stern
lady, bent over to get her face next to his. Looked him right in the eye
sternly, and said, “If you come here, and act like God and your mama want you
to, you will have no trouble. But if you come here and cause problems, you will
have lots of trouble!”
He looked her in the eye awhile, then that
grin appeared. “Nah, you won't have any trouble from me. I can count to 20!
wanta' hear it?”
She burst out laughing, losing all her
bluster. “I would LOVE to hear you count to 20!” Privately, she said to his
mama, “I will see to it PERSONALLY that he goes to school here!” Somehow, he
managed to snag the very last kindergarten slot.
True to his word, she had no trouble with
him. Nor did his teacher. However, he was not good at obeying teachers whose
class he was not in. Unquestioning obedience to an adult, just because they are
bigger than him (almost everyone is) is just not a part of his makeup. But a
logical, calm approach by his mother, about the “right thing to do” did the
trick.
Millions for logic, not one single penny
for intimidation.
In kindergarten, he quickly became a
leader and protector of the weak. One large boy stomped on the foot of a small
girl, injured and unable to wear a shoe. Our subject filed it away. Days later,
he saw the boy with his shoe off. He stomped it, grinding it as much as his
small body would allow. “You don't hurt little girls,” he said, and walked
away.
Summertime came. We all knew that swimming
lessons were a requirement, again because of his nature. He really needed to be
able to swim. His mother took him to his swimming teacher the first day. He was
unable to swim a lick. He looked the situation over for a moment, grinned, then
ran to the deep end of the pool, did a cannon ball, sank like a rock. The
shocked teacher dove in behind him. As she was dragging him out, she was
shaking her head. “He was grinning, all the way down, all the way back up!” she
said.
A neighbor gave him an old bicycle, when
he turned six. Never rode a real one before. He ran to it, jumped on, and rode
it off. Pushing it to the top of the highest drive in the neighborhood, he
jumped on and flew down the drive, rounding a sharp curve at the bottom. After
that, if he went out the door, he had a headgear on.
Razorback football came around. At one
game, a redneck man, sitting up behind his family, spent the entire game
shouting at the umpire, the other team's coach, the other team, often with
profanity. Finally, our subject stood up, turned around, pointed his finger at
him. “Sir! Oh sir!” When he finally got the man's attention, said, “When I am a
man, I won't talk like that!”
The shocked man turned red, then laughed.
“Well, sonny, that would probably be a pretty good decision on your part!”
Soccer season came around. We had been
waiting for the day, because of his natural ability. We just knew he would be
great. That held true in the first game. He scored four goals, driving in and
scoring at will. We were really excited, starting his second game. He just was not in the mood. When the game
started, he bored quickly, would sometimes be wrestling a teammate to the
ground while the other team scored on the other end. After a while, he walked
over to a nearby field, lay down, chewing on a weed. The coach called him, no
luck. Finally, the coach just went over and pulled him up.
Flag football was a mixed bag, also. He
often thought it was just as much fun to pull his teammate's flag as an
opponent's. About that time it hit me, remembering the sleeper caper.
It had to be his interest, his idea. Not his
parent's, not mine.
He and his older brother both decided they
would like to wrestle. His brother proved to be a coach’s dream – listening to
the coach, filled with effort and drive. His coach, a four time national
wrestling champion in college, said the brother had more “heart” than any kid
he had ever seen.
Our subject, however, was not a coach’s
dream. Often as not, when the coach
instructed, he needed to go to the bathroom, or was at the back of the pack, in
his own world. After a few months, the State Wrestling Championship rolled
around. Our subject became transformed, working his way up to the finals. He
was seven, his opponent was ten. A much taller boy. The 90 pound division. He
quickly pulled a very complex move the coach had been teaching all week, and
pinned him. At seven, the state champ! The coach just walked away, shaking his
head. “Now, where the heck did that come from? While I was teaching that, he
was at the back, singing a song!”
Our subject has a very large heart for the
homeless. Singlehandedly, he collected fifty some-odd coats for the school
“coats for the homeless.”
What kind of man will he become? One thing
I know, it will be his decision. His area of interest. I just hope I'm around
to see it.
Jerrel Patrick is not my real name. You
see, I have other grandchildren........
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