Monday, September 17, 2007

Making the World Safe for my Six-Year-Old

I married a Marine! I should not have this duty. My son should have some genetic disposition for toughness. This is a prime piece of evidence for the "nature vs. nurture" debate scientists have argued about forever!

Little Evan has taken his toy tanks and trucks outside on the front porch. I am in the living room, perched on the sofa doing some advanced physiology (yay, fun). I have the blinds opened and the windows opened so he can pop his little head up and let me know he is okay. I can hear him playing with the little green soldiers that have been around for what seems like centuries.

Then I hear it. Screams. Bloodcurling screams that would give any woman in a B-rate horror flick a pretty good run for her money. The front door flies open, and the little guy comes running in the front door, arms flailing at the same time as I am slipping on shoes to run and get to my baby. I am sure he is hurt. I almost got knocked down by the flying front door as it swings wide open. Instead, my son is intact. I see no blood, no deformed limbs to indicate broken bones.

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy's not here and I need him! What are we gonna do? There is a big ol' spider and it is a Daddy Long -Legger, I guaruntee it!"

Yes, he calls them Daddy Long-Leggers. I stifle my giggles and go out on the front porch to conquer the daddy long-legger. I find the offending creature and stomp it with my toes. Evan observes like he is amazed that his Mommy is so brave as to take on the harmless arachnid. The world is safe again for his playtime.

This made me think of two things. Number one, what is he going to do when John is not here? I will have to fill that void. Daddy long-leggers are one thing, but what if it were something scarier or hairier? I ain't doing it. We will both run shreiking to the neighbors' house, I guess. Number two: this is the son of a US Marine Scout/Sniper. Did my son not inherit anything from his father, aside from those eyes that remind me of melted chocolate? This just goes to show that Marines are made, they are not born!

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