Very funny 'til someone breaks their neck!

One of the things my older son, Gilad, and I have have in common is a sincere appreciation of a good night's sleep.  He and I can, quite literally, sleep until woken.  12 hours?  No problem.  15...18?  Bring it on.  As much time as we are allowed... we will sleep.

So you can imagine my surprise at finding Gilad - on a non-school morning - sitting in the living room fully dressed when I came upstairs to make the coffee and bring in the newspaper.

OK, the truth is I wasn't all that surprised.  You see last night we gave Gilad his birthday present (he's 11 now, kenainahara!) and I was pretty sure he would want try it out first thing in the morning.

A little back-story is required  at this point.

When Gilad wants something he can be absolutely relentless.  He's not rude, mind you... just doggedly persistent. 

About a year ago Gilad mounted a one-man harassment campaign for a pair of in-line skates.  I didn't even wait for Zahava's input on the matter.  I said no.  I said no the first, second and 55th time Gilad casually brought up the topic.  No amount of reasoning or pleading on his part made the slightest headway with me.  I even heard myself quoting well-worn nuggets when he tried to explain that everyone else had them ("if everyone else jumped off a bridge...").

The simple truth is that I am an over-protective father.  Not about all things... but things like skateboards, roller-blades, etc., yeah... totally overprotective. 

There, I've said it.

I told him that I had put my parents through seven levels of hell as a kid with all my injuries and that the local emergency room and orthopedist's office had had pre-printed forms filled out with my name, address and insurance information on hand... just in case.  I told him I had no intention of being put through that as a parent.

Every night as I walk around the house turning off lights and pulling blankets up over sleeping children, I look at their perfect (tfu tfu tfu) features and smooth unmarked bodies and cringe at the thought of cuts, bruises and broken bones.

I am beginning to understand the agony my mother must have experienced each time the phone would ring and a school nurse would open the 'conversation' with the dreaded words "Now don't worry Mrs. Bogner, David is going to be OK, but...".

[sigh]

Each time Gilad raised the topic of in-line skates, all I could picture was my perfect little boy with broken arms and legs... and chipped teeth.  The last time he asked I simply handed him a pair of scissors and told him to run around the house with them... that it would be a faster (not to mention cheaper) route to the inevitable tragedy.

However, as Gilad's birthday approached I started thinking about the fairness of my knee-jerk veto. 

While driving around our community I noted that quite a few of his peers did indeed seem to have in-line skates.  Also, the kids on our street ALL seemed to have them.  A week ago I came home from work to find Gilad sitting on the curb in our parking lot watching a bunch of his friends playing a pick-up game of roller-hockey.  The sight of Gilad sitting there with his chin cradled in his hands nearly broke my heart.  It moved me in a way that none of his arguments had ever been able to.

So yesterday I called Zahava from work and asked if I could surprise Gilad after dinner with a trip to the mall to pick out a pair of skates for his birthday.  There was a long silence on the other end of the phone... but sensing that this was indeed a profound sea-change in my parenting philosophy, she didn't offer any objections.

On the way to the mall that evening Gilad could barely sit still.  He chattered away endlessly about all kinds of specifications and details related to selecting the right pair of skates.  I had no idea he had done so much research.  It made me feel even smaller for having denied his request for so long.

When we got to the sporting goods store the salesman immediately tried to steer us towards a pair of in-line skates made from platinum and diamonds (I'm making a guess based on the price).  While Gilad was busy looking over the selection I quietly whispered to the clerk that if he wanted my business he had better show me something appropriate for an 11-year-old boy.  He quickly led me to a rack of very reputable skates that seemed to be made of less exotic materials... but which were by no means cheap. 

Gilad picked out a pair that met his demanding specifications and I gave them my blessing. 

But before I let the cashier ring them up, I told Gilad that in order to get the skates he would have to agree to buy a complete set of wrist, elbow and knee pads (with his saved allowance money) and wear them - along with a helmet - at all times while skating. 

It was the fastest 'yes' of his life.

When we got home it was nearly his bed time, but I let him put on the skates (and protective gear, of course), and take an inaugural spin up and down the street on his new skates.  When he finally came in 20 minutes later he was bathed in sweat and grinning from ear to ear.

I gave him a kiss and sent him off to get ready for bed.  Instead of sitting down to take off the skates he started heading for the stairs and jokingly (I hope) asked if he could walk up the stairs wearing the skates. 

I couldn't stop myself.  Before I could call it back, the words "You'll break your neck!" sprang unbidden from my mouth... and right then and there I knew I had finally become a full-fledged parent.

Happy Birthday Gilad.  Please be safe.