Life has an interesting way of just...happening. Most parents I've spoken to agree that having children is metaphorically tantamount to having a volcano erupt right in the middle of your life plan. Even if you knew it was going to happen, the fallout is still unimaginable, permanent, and it obliterates the old landscape.
(This isn't inherently a good or bad thing; it's just a reflection on what seems to be).
I'm trying to teach this principle (that life just sorta happens) to my son, in an age-appropriate manner. Most of the time, this boils down to him asking me a question, and me replying with a five-minute soliloquy on how things are sometimes one way, then for no discernible reason, they are another, often in a very short span of time. Thus far he seems to both enjoy, and understand my pontificating (he is rarely satisfied with simple answers); time will tell if that remains to be true in his elder childhood years.
But I struggle sometimes with ideas surrounding dreams and accomplishments. I am a firmly grounded realist, and even when I was younger, though I took more risks than I take now, I was decidedly cautious and calculative in my approach to life decisions.
I was, and still am, the person in the first panel on left side of this XKCD.
However, the message in the rest of that comic haunts me. I do not wish to push my son into a mold that is foreign to him, yet I also don't want to fill his head with unlikely scenarios and nearly impossible to accomplish fantasies. I want him to be prudent with his speech (especially today when it lives on forever in the ether), but be free to speak his mind. I want him to be free to dream big...
Yet it's not true that anyone can grow up to be an astronaut or fighter pilot (strict height and physical health requirements). The vast majority of humans are ineligible to ever be President of the United States (strict age and citizenship requirements). And luck will always play a far larger role in our accomplishments than any of us are likely comfortable admitting.
So what does that leave for my son? I cannot lie to him; it's not in my nature to hide the truth, no matter how difficult it may be to face. Nor am I comfortable sugar-coating reality; the world can be a beautiful, magical place. It can also be (and let's be honest, much more frequently is) cold, cruel, lonely, crushing, and terrifying.
I'm still trying to find the right equilibrium. Maybe there isn't one to be found. Perhaps the balance lies somewhere in the middle, although the older I get, the less true I find that to be.
As for my own dreams? A long, healthy, and happy life for my son. Who could ask for anything more?
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