Are any of your kids athletic? Do they play sports?
Even if they don’t, I’m sure they run around. I’m sure you run around.
After them.
In elementary school I was a runner. A below average runner but a runner nonetheless. I remember spending lunch time in the fall running around our school trail through the forest training for cross-country races. I never won any of those races. I didn’t finish at the top. I was lucky to finish at the bottom.
Some of our kids are runners. Some are not. At their cross-country races there’s an optional parent’s race that we have the “opportunity” to be a part of. I’ve run in that race a few times.
My goal in that race is simple: Don’t. Finish. Last. So far, I’ve crushed it.
The other night we were at the beach with some friends enjoying a breezy summer night. My buddy and all-star dad Blair* thought it would be a good idea to bring a few kites to the beach for the kids to fly. It was so windy on that beach it’s a wonder none of the small peeps were carried away.
We were wrapping up the night, loading up our water-and-sand-laden chairs, wagons, strollers, sandals, towels, clothing, coolers, toys, garbage, floaty-thingies, babies, etc. Some of the smaller kids were getting one last swim in now that we had changed them into dry clothes. That way, with no more dry clothes, they could complain most of the way home about being cold and wet and sandy. “Can you turn on the heat?” Moments later, “Can you turn on the air conditioning?” “I’m cold!” “I’m hot!”
The now-empty beach provided an ideal kite-flying location. The kite-flyers were taking full advantage of it. Boy those things were flying high! And higher! Until they were all out of string. The kids started to reign in the string. They started wrapping it around the dollar-store-awkwardly-rectangular-not-round-and-handy-but-incredibly-inconvenient D-shaped handle. All dads who have flown kites with their kids know what happens next: “Dad can you finish this?”
Blair** had started gathering in what seemed like a few miles of kite string. Suddenly the unthinkable happened. In his haste to gather in the elusive polygon of plastic he LET GO OF THE HANDLE! Mouths hung wide open in shock as that little handle went bouncing down the beach at breakneck speed, string unraveling all the while. Parents stood watching, their mouths agape. Children dropped the sand they were putting in their mouths and stared.
I was watching my son, Arrow, play in the water with his formerly dry clothes on. I had just glanced to my right and noticed the plastic kite handle bounce past connected to a string reaching to the heavens. I heard a cry for help, “Jason! The kite!” It took a moment to shake me out of my fatherly attentiveness watching Arrow. But then instinct kicked in. Predator in pursuit of prey. I left Arrow in the capable care of his teen sister and leapt to pursue my objective.
I sped across the beach. Think slow-motion Baywatch David Hasselhoff in red shorts. Only I was stereo-typical middle-aged dad in golf shirt and khaki pants. Glad I had removed my socks and sandals earlier. I ran as fast as I could after the kite. Which isn’t saying much. The handle skirted and bounced awkwardly along the ground. I was gaining on it. Just a little more.
The wind started to pull it out over the water. I knew if I didn’t act soon it would be too late and that dollar-store kite would be lost forever. I just couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t! I pivoted to my left and splashed into the summer-warmed waters. Just…a little bit…further.
Now I was in the water running even more awkwardly.
Legs splaying to the sides and high knees splashing all over like a water buffalo. I didn’t think I would make it.
I made a last-ditch effort and lunged for the kite! I felt my fingers close around that plastic handle. Success! I had the kite! I had won. Man vs. Kite. Man vs. Nature. Man vs. Wild. I had fought and I had conquered! Men, women and children cheered exuberantly from the beach behind me. I checked to see if I was having a heart attack.
No tears would be shed over lost kites tonight! Not on my watch. The kite was returned to the children and as a reward for my efforts Blair*** gave me a healthy, ice-cold can of Coca-Cola Classic making all my efforts worth it.
Dads, sometimes we have to stretch ourselves (literally and figuratively) to take care of our kids. Just remember it’s worth it. You’re raising the next generation of leaders. Future moms and dads and kite-chasers. Let’s put down our phones and go engage intentionally with our kiddos. You’ve got what it takes!
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
**Not his real name.
***Still not his real name. His real name is…
Comments