Lessons Learned

Back around the time the earth was still cooling and my son was beginning to walk, he was left with his hapless father and new dog. Not for a week. Not for a day. Just a couple of hours. This was just long enough for the dad (me) to set up the Rube Goldberg machine designed for putting a great big bump on the son's head (big head) and the black hole of trust from which there was no escape. Begin with the wobbling toddler on the front porch. Dog inside. Dad in the doorway. Dad can see all and is in control. Then he needs to step back inside to get his keys. All is calm. All is well. On the way back to the front door, dad's movement causes dog to bolt for the opening. Wobbly toddler has moved to an even more precarious position on the top step. Dog upsets the delicate balance of head over toes and wobbly toddler tips forward. Dog continues down the stairs to run enthusiastic circles in the yard. Dog's portion of this exercise is now complete. Wobbly toddler begins to tumble head over little round heels, making contact with each step as he goes. Dad stands at the top of the stairs with all kinds of thoughts in his head. One of these is "I really wish I would have prepared myself and my son better for this situation." Another is "If I run fast enough I could actually turn back time and catch him before he ever leaves the porch." And inevitably "I am such a horrible father."
Now that the earth is getting hotter again, and my son survived that incident, albeit with a knot on his head that had to be explained to his very disappointed mother. He lives in a house hundreds of miles away. Pays his bills. Makes his own meals. Has a job. Goes to school. Wakes himself up. He lives a life of a proto-adult. There is still an implied safety net offered by his parents, supported by frequent and often amusing calls to his childhood home. Still, the moment to moment existence that used to be so carefully monitored has become more of a need-to-know system of accountability. We do get a running report about the salads that he has consumed between texts or calls. His parents don't always hear about the things we might wonder most about, but that's because we respect his privacy. Or something like that. Mostly, we know that he is safe. And generally pretty happy. It should be noted at this point that he is considering getting a dog. A Corgi, whose low center of gravity might not pose the same threat to his balance that his childhood pet posed. And the house where he is currently living has no front steps.
I guess I taught him something.