THE WALDRONS

Austin had woken over one hour earlier than usual Friday morning and he could not fall back to sleep. The result is what most parents might expect from a 5-year-old: an emotionally unstable mess. We barely made it to the diner that Friday morning between the tears over being too tired and the indecisiveness when selecting what shirt he was to wear to school that day; even once we were there he was not quite himself. After about five minutes, however, a song came over the radio that changed his mood almost instantly. Historically, music can pull him out of a funk, but it is usually a song that is already familiar to him, one of his favorites. This song was something that he had not heard before, yet after only 90 seconds, he was smiling and bouncing to the beat. “Daddy, do you like this song too?” he asked. […]

It means something different to her now, at eighteen months of age, than it will at twenty-four months. Now, when I hold her in my arms, she yells it out with a smile and excitement, certain of what is coming next. She knows that she is about to be bombarded with a series of kisses on her forehead, cheeks and neck while she is tipped backwards and squeezed in a warm (but playful) embrace. When I bring her back upright, she smiles and yells it again, no less excited than the time before. In six months, she probably won’t be as excited to answer; she won’t shout it as loud. When I ask her at five years of age, she may only smile, not saying a word. When she is thirteen, she’ll probably only answer with a rolling of her eyes; even then I will know that somewhere inside the […]

It’s only for a moment you are mine to hold The plans that heaven has for you Will all too soon unfold So many different prayers I’ll pray For all that you might do But most of all I’ll want to know You’re walking in the truth And If I never told you I want you to know As I watch you grow Chorus: I pray that God would fill your heart with dreams And that faith gives you the courage To dare to do great things I’m here for you whatever this life brings So let my love give you roots And help you find your wings May passion be the wind That leads you through your days And may conviction keep you strong Guide you on your way May there be many moments That make your life so sweet Oh, but more than memories Chorus: It’s not living […]

We were sat at the same table for the fourth week in a row as we watched a gentleman exit the coffee house.  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to the waitress. “Daddy, [probably trying to drop a hint] he is coming back tomorrow too.” “He must be a regular.” “What’s a regular?” “A regular is a person who is predictable and the people who work somewhere know that that same person will always be there at a certain time or day.” “So, we are regulars on Friday mornings.” “Don’t get ahead of yourself, buddy.” .     .     .     . Fast forward one week; we walk in and sit at the same table for the fifth consecutive week. It is adjacent to the counter, which the waitress leans over to ask, “Coffee and OJ, right?” When she arrived a few moments later she brought with her our beverages. […]

It has been my experience that people don’t get it; they cannot have it both ways. Since Austin was a much younger boy, people have often remarked (to both Christine and myself) how well-behaved he is. They marvel at his politeness and responsiveness to redirection; they are also surprised at my firm, immediate and sometimes stern responses to his occasional behavioral missteps. Sometimes they may lack the courage to speak, but find the guile to gaze in my direction with a look of disapproving consternation. “You should be a little easier on him…” others will say, but they do not understand: the boy who plays so nicely, is so sweet to his friends and listens to directions so well is (in part) the product of the parenting attitudes and techniques that they find so distressing. One of those techniques has been to never let him know what a consequence may […]

I never fell in love with New Jersey; I could never settle down there. Real estate is over-priced and even the clean air smells bad. This is (of course) a direct result of being the most densely populated state in the country. Simply put: New Jersey is filled with too many people, and I loathe people, thus my desire to always live somewhere else. Others are often surprised/confused when they learn that I hate people. They inevitably ask, “How could you be a physical therapist if you don’t like people?” This is simple, of course, because I chose a profession that allows me to work with one person at a time. I appreciate persons; they intrigue and fascinate me. I can relate to a person; people I cannot. So while Christine and the kids are in New Jersey this week, I will happily be at home and there will not […]

Austin will be attending kindergarten in just over one month and (as he steps on the bus for the first time) Christine and I will certainly share in a moment of reflection: wondering on one hand where the time has gone and how lucky we are in the other. Having already departed for school, the next morning will be the first Thursday in over two years that Austin will not run to the front door to wave “Hello” and yell, “Good Morning!” to the town DPW-workers who come to the house for garbage pick-up. Now, after a 2 year relationship, they look for him when they turn the corner and each gentleman makes an effort to wave back, often shouting a greeting back over the noisy truck in turn. On the best days, the truck fills up and Austin gets to watch it compact from the front door. Even on […]

There is nothing quite so disheartening as a county fair in rural upstate New York. Nestled in the beautiful hills in Madison County is a small fairgrounds with a simple “grandstand” (ironically named for its lack of grandeur) and a fireman’s barbeque building. The remaining grounds are usually bare. For one weekend every year, however, the fairgrounds come to life and buzz with activity. The grounds become filled with midway games and concessions while the grandstand is filled at night for the demolition derby (featuring local heros who decide to put their lives at risk for bragging rights and a $300 prize). It was the demolition derby that has drawn us to these same fairgrounds each of the last 3 years. After all, there is something about 10 or more cars in a series of collisions that makes a young boy smile from ear-to-ear, bringing us back year-after-year. It is […]

There are times that we might be frustrated by our ineffectiveness as parents. This week Austin bit a friend, used the word “crap”, continued his occasionally bossy ways, did not always share well with his friends and could not keep his voice at a reasonable volume while indoors (AT ALL). Despite all of our efforts to the contrary, he still needs prompting to do what we perceive as the right thing, at the right time, in the right way. But when his sister was crying at the dinner table and refusing to eat her meal yesterday, it was Austin who softly asked his father , “Can I try to feed her, please, Daddy?” Sure, there is always more work to be done. But in moments like these we take heart at how privileged we are to call these children our own.