Monday, February 23, 2009

Dodgeball

Playing with the boys this weekend, when it just happened. One minute we were playing superheros, the next stuffed animals were whizzing through the air like scud missiles. They took the high ground, perched upon Logan's bunch, with a ready supply of ammunition. I was left to defend the floor, grabbing whatever animal was in reach and zipping it back. Sometimes two or three at a time. Laughter and giggling intermixed with requests to hurry with the next barrage.

In the midst a healthy back and forth battle, Cole turned his back, just trying to stem off the incoming animals. After a few minutes, we realised he had become a walking wounded. One strike had caught him in the eye. He did not cry out, just tried to go on the defensive to protect what was left.

We can easily get wrapped up playing the game (life) and miss those that have fallen. When we are the fallen, we go on the defensive, not letting anyone know, just trying to get by.

Cole was okay, just a "flesh wound", quickly forgotten as we moved on greater adventures. The bump may have been harder than we thought, as a bit later Logan asked Cole for his middle initial and he started down the stairs to get it out of his closet. Through our laughter we beckoned him back to the loft. I wonder what he would have brought back?

5 comments:

tony said...

A Man Of letters!

Daniel said...

Someone once said "A bad day at home with the family is better than a good day at work". I don't know if I agree with this philosophy entirely, but I am so glad that you can be a full-time dad again. It is so important to your two boys, and more importantly, to your wife. Revel in the current moment and enjoy the journey. I know this is something that is said alot, but make sure that it happens!

Brian Miller said...

Thanks Dan. A good reminder to cherish these moments, as I will soon be back to work.

I may have to ask Cole to give me his middle initial again today, just to unravel this mystery.

Michael Rawluk said...

Very nicely put. I remember being the walking wounded. I was throwing snowballs with my son when her was three. Somehow, this wee child,sent a fast ball right at me from about 20 feet awy. It nailed me in the eye before Icould react at all. I got a good black eye out of it but he must have had some fluke of mechanical forces come to bear that was never to happen again.

Brian Miller said...

haha and ouch. gotta love kids and their ability to land just the right "shot" when you least expect it.