Dad Entry #28

We’ve been busy. Fixing closet shelving, tiling our bathroom, chasing Megan, going to Cubs games. Michael wanted badly to join us for the Cubs game on Papa Mike’s birthday. I’ve invited Michael before and he’s declined, so Josiah, Greg, Papa Mike, and I had to go. Had to. Yeah, it was fun. There is no slowing down Papa Mike. Or Greg. Or Joe. I like hanging out with Joe, a former bouncer who can bench 500 lbs, a former UFC punching bag, I mean training partner, in the Miletich Camp. But when Michael saw Joe, he just wanted to know where Deanna and Casey were. I will get Michael to a Cubs game soon. So he can have cotton candy (of course that’s the draw, not Wrigley, Zambrano, Soriano, Lee, or Fukudome).

It’s funny how kids have different fears. Just like adults I know, but let’s examine Megan for a second. She will scale the most difficult ladder or rock wall on the playground. And she’ll do it fearlessly, breathlessly, smiling and giddy, even though she’s not big or strong enough yet and often bumps her head or chin or elbow or shin. Of course we catch her, help her, but also let her climb (she gets angry and refuses help most of the time, anyway, so we let her struggle and take some lumps). Obviously we prevent her from falling and crashing to the ground which certainly, without a spotter, would’ve happened several times already. Megan will jump into the deep end of the swimming pool with no one there to catch her or keep her afloat. She’d probably – gleefully! – jump out of an airplane, too, or base jump off the Sears Tower. But turn on the vacuum cleaner and she’ll run screaming through the house, petrified, frantic, looking for Mommy or Daddy (whoever is not holding the vacuum!). Poor thing. Like Aunt Jenny used to say – when she was Megan’s age – “Sweeper get you!” Megan struggled with the saws we fired-up constantly to cut sub-floor and tile. ‘Noise machines’ she called them and asked repeatedly if we were done and could we put them away please and thank you. I don’t think Megan’s fears – or ‘non-fears’ – are irrational at all, they’re just an interesting mix, as they are for all of us. Michael could care less about the vacuum (though he doesn’t like other loud things like industrial strength toilets at gas stations or restaurants that threaten to suck the whole room down when they flush loudly), but for years Michael was afraid of the slides at the playground.

Last night Michael furrowed his brow and asked, “Why are we going to die?” I remember thinking, moments like these are when Dads earn their stripes. I asked him first what he meant, wondering, for example, is he afraid of dying soon? Is there an impending emergency or natural disaster I’m not aware of? And is Michael clairvoyant, a prophet, or just an existentialist? Michael clarified he didn’t have any specific or immediate fears. I told him that he will live for a very long time before he has to think about death. More than a hundred years. And then, I told him, he will go to a better place called heaven. And Mommy and Daddy will be there. “But do they have toys there?” was Michael’s concern. “Yes, they have toys,” I assured him. Michael was silent for a while, still ruminating, so I asked if he wanted to talk more. “But why do we die?” he said. I asked him why he was thinking about this today and he answered, “Because Papa Swede died.” This really got my attention because I didn’t realize Michael knew enough about Papa Swede to speak about him or recall him from memory (but haven’t I learned yet that Michael’s mind is a massive steel trap that catches and cages everything!). Michael said Alissa told him Papa Swede had died (Michael hasn’t seen Alissa for many weeks now, though… hmm?). So I explained to Michael that people don’t live forever, but he has a long, long time still so he should only think about living! Then Michael asked his best question of the night! “When we die, does the world stop?” Awesome! I praised him for such a great question, then told him, “No, the world goes on for other people like his friends and loved ones, his children and grandchildren. And isn’t that wonderful!” I added. Michael said, “No, I’m not going to have any children.”