The Middle Child

At some point Bo decided to take what it means to be 3 to new heights. Loud, defiant and incredibly emotional, Bo is at the centre of just about everything that involves noise in our house. He finds it intolerable if one of his brothers is sitting quietly and quickly rectifies the situation.

We have probably put him into things like swimming, skating and skiing a bit too early, but he's a gamer and doesn't complain. This is largely because his greatest fear is that he will be left out of something. His most spoken words may be 'and me too?' or 'and I'm going too?'. He would rather cling to a ski instructor and fall on his face than not be included.

He is the straw that stirs the drink around here, but he's also our most affectionate boy. He loves his hugs and he really loves his mom. It's not easy being the Bo-man. Each day...each hour... is an emotional roller coaster. But the world seems to love him, so I'm confident it will also be his oyster.

I think everyone but Bo knows what's about to happen here

Bo has trouble sitting still when eating. This night he lost chair privileges and had to eat dinner while standing.

Before each lesson he asks if I remembered his swim shirt. Before each lesson I tell him I forgot.

Black Slalom

'Daddy', said William.

'Daddy, are there any Black Diamonds at Camp Fortune?'

'Ummm..yes, I think so' I said.

'Good. Today I'm going to ski a Black Diamond'.

'Why?' I asked. 'There are plenty of fun Blue runs'

As is his practice, he completely ignored my comment as we drove towards the ski hill.

'Are they complex runs?' he asked.

'Which?'

'The Black Diamonds. Are they complex?'

'I suppose. Why does it matter?'

'Because I want to ski a complex Black Diamond' he said.

On this holiday Monday William was looking forward to skiing with his grandparents AND, for some reason, skiing a Black Diamond.

As five year olds go William doesn't lack confidence. He gets that from his mother. As the morning progressed we tried to tell him that the hill may be too steep, that we should perhaps stick with some challenging blue runs, but I know my eldest boy and knew that the Black Diamond was likely inevitable.

An hour into the morning his grandfather took a turn trying to lightheartedly dissuade him as we headed back up the chairlift. I watched William and knew that we were wasting our breath. He crossed his hands on the bar in front of him, lay his chin on his hands and stared straight ahead. Grandpa had been tuned out. We had all been tuned out.

As we disembarked at the top I tried to trick him and tell him that a blue run was a black run. William however, has been tricked before. He stopped and stared at the list of ski runs and their corresponding colour symbols.

'Daddy' he said. 'The Black Diamond is the other way'. True 'dat....so off we went.

Thankfully, it was a sunny day. The snow was good and few people happened to be on that particular hill. As he does with most runs, William tucked right in behind me at the top. With Nanny and Grandpa skiing behind he zigged and zagged his way down the hill.

As I waited at the bottom, watching his final turns, I stuck out my hand to issue  a congratulatory 'high five'. He skied right by be.

'I told you I could do it' he said with a smile.

I was impressed and offended at the same time. I sure hope this confidence sticks with him.

I didn't manage to take any pictures that day. It was just nice to ski with  my parents and one of my sons. Here are a couple of William and Bo during their recent ski lessons though...

William, red jacket, with his class

William and his instructor

Bo with his young teacher Carolynn

The Things Daddies Do..

Puppy has been William's constant companion for close to 5 years. I have always known that if I wasn't around to comfort our eldest boy that Puppy had my back. He's been from our house, to the cottage, to South Africa and back. He's seen William through everything and he's pretty much a member of the family. There are days I consider him a salient being.

This past week tears have been appearing in William's eyes when he shares his concerns about Puppy's health. Threadbare in places and out of stuffing in others, Puppy's best years are behind him. William can see the writing on the wall and he's not happy with what he's reading.....he still needs Puppy. Shit, I still need Puppy.

The day will come when my boys realize that I'm just a big ol'hairy guy with bad knees. Today however, I'm viewed as a cross between the Hulk and an Olympic athlete. I'm Daddy. So after watching the tears well up in my boy's eyes at bedtime for the 4th day in a row there was really only one thing I could say when he expressed his fears again....NOT ON MY WATCH! Or something along those lines. Regardless, it was a dramatic and powerful moment as we lay down on his Transformers sheets and turned out the light.

Now, I'm not comfortable with the 'hero' label. It's overused and usually misplaced..... but I can't deny that the open heart re-stuffing that took place on our kitchen table this afternoon was damn impressive. My eyes and hands aren't what they used to be, but Puppy pulled through with flying colours. We both had a little Baileys in our coffee and were none the worse for it. He's still worn in places, but we'll let him recover from this surgery before putting him under again.


Here's to you Puppy. Long may you run.