"Parker wants you."
How many times through the years have I heard those words... From the church nursery when he was a toddler...from his sister when he was trying to prolong bedtime by asking for a drink...from his teammate when he just wanted me to hold his stuff during a game.
But this time the words weren't for me.
They were for his dad.
We were sitting at a track meet watching a multitude of colored jerseys milling around the track and field. Parker was getting ready to high jump. Most parents/spectators are required to stay in the bleachers, but Hubby strolled (like the Coach he is) right across the track lanes and onto the inner field. I watched his broad back and his signature bright yellow hat as he stood around talking and listening to Parker and his co-competitors. They gestured with their arms and lifted their knees and looked in deep discussion about form. Hubby stayed put as Parker jumped...knocked the bar down...waited...jumped...made it...waited...jumped again.
And I watched from the hill.
It was like seeing invisible pieces of life suddenly fit together just the way they were supposed to.
Because this father/son camraderie is new.
It's not that we've had any real "problems". But like most animal species, there comes a time between young male and alpha male when heads butt and everything seems to be a challenge for personal honor. For the last couple of years, I could ask Parker to scrub the toilet and he would reluctantly, but willingly go do it. But Hubby could ask him to mow the yard and I feared for the carpet due to the sparks of fire coming out of Parker's eyes. Homework help from Dad was impossible no matter how patiently Hubby thought he was explaining. And even though Hubby is the Head Coach for girls basketball (and has been quite successful) Parker would stare straight ahead when Dad yelled helpful hints from the bleachers and say when we got home from the game "You are not my coach. I only do what my coach tells me."
Hubby couldn't understand why Parker wasn't as "driven" as Hubby imagined himself to be at that age. And I think he sometimes wondered how he had sired a son so different from himself.
How many times through the years have I heard those words... From the church nursery when he was a toddler...from his sister when he was trying to prolong bedtime by asking for a drink...from his teammate when he just wanted me to hold his stuff during a game.
But this time the words weren't for me.
They were for his dad.
We were sitting at a track meet watching a multitude of colored jerseys milling around the track and field. Parker was getting ready to high jump. Most parents/spectators are required to stay in the bleachers, but Hubby strolled (like the Coach he is) right across the track lanes and onto the inner field. I watched his broad back and his signature bright yellow hat as he stood around talking and listening to Parker and his co-competitors. They gestured with their arms and lifted their knees and looked in deep discussion about form. Hubby stayed put as Parker jumped...knocked the bar down...waited...jumped...made it...waited...jumped again.
And I watched from the hill.
It was like seeing invisible pieces of life suddenly fit together just the way they were supposed to.
Because this father/son camraderie is new.
It's not that we've had any real "problems". But like most animal species, there comes a time between young male and alpha male when heads butt and everything seems to be a challenge for personal honor. For the last couple of years, I could ask Parker to scrub the toilet and he would reluctantly, but willingly go do it. But Hubby could ask him to mow the yard and I feared for the carpet due to the sparks of fire coming out of Parker's eyes. Homework help from Dad was impossible no matter how patiently Hubby thought he was explaining. And even though Hubby is the Head Coach for girls basketball (and has been quite successful) Parker would stare straight ahead when Dad yelled helpful hints from the bleachers and say when we got home from the game "You are not my coach. I only do what my coach tells me."
Hubby couldn't understand why Parker wasn't as "driven" as Hubby imagined himself to be at that age. And I think he sometimes wondered how he had sired a son so different from himself.
I stood between the two, seeing both sides and trying to nudge each closer to the other.
But recently there have been signs of something new. Parker chose his dad's old basketball number for his jersey. He rooted for Indiana in the Final Four because "well, Dad likes them...". And he invited Hubby out onto his territory to watch him jump...close enough to offer encouragement and maybe a little critique. And as Parker has opened up, Hubby has eagerly stepped in. Whatever needed to be proven has been, and they are not only enjoying each other, but forging a special bond that only a Father and Son can know.
So, when it was time for the last race to begin, and Parker asked his Dad to go to the "back stretch" because "I struggle with that section", I didn't feel left out. I smiled from my lawn chair and watched my Boys with pride.
Out of all the events happening on the field that day, watching their relationship deepen was my favorite.
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