My Son taught me....COURAGE

I thought I'd recount a conversation Sarah and I had with the big kids last night. It all started like this...

Sarah called me in the early afternoon to inform me that she had just gotten an email from Ollie's teacher--Ollie is our middle son; we call him "The Puppet Master" because he's so cute that he knows he can use it to manipulate people, and if you are not careful, he'll be elbow deep in your rearend making you talk like a dummy.

ANYWAY, the email informed Sarah that Ollie had been sent to the "sad table" at lunch for trying to start a food fight in the cafeteria. Ugh! Caroline and Adam never got in as much trouble in their 7 combined years of elementary school as Ollie has in less than one. For the record, they NEVER get in ANY trouble...well, except for the time that he was caught climbing the urinals in the boys' room. (Gross...there's not enough Purell in the world.)

Next, Sarah informs me that Ollie is still (yes, STILL) punching, kicking and spitting-on kids (especially one of his girl friends) on the bus. Where does he get this?

Then, we find out Adam has been lying to Sarah. He's been telling Sarah for days and days that he's reading his school assignments on the bus. Sarah questioned this, but he insisted and got downright offended. As it happened today, his friend ratted him out when they got off the bus. Not good for Adam.

At the dinner table that night, we had discussion about these goings-on. Ollie claimed that a few other of his friends started it, and he was the only one that got caught. Sarah thought we should call the principal and arrange to have Ollie miss recess to help clean the cafeteria. I decided that we shouldn't interfere with the discipline structure in the school. If the school does not feel Ollie needs more severe punishment, we'll take care of it at home.

I explained to Ollie that I don't care he wasn't the only one doing it; I don't care that he was the only one caught; and that I am not going to call the school and the other kids' parents complaining and demanding that more people get in trouble. As his daddy, I am only concerned with him, and how he behaves; and he must learn that we do not accept this kind of behavior from our family. Then the focus turned to Adam and his lying.

To make a long story short (too late!...and really, only to continue on longer from the "educational" aspect), we turned the focus to excuses. You see, we understand what is happening here: the kids are getting away with A LOT because they are being pitied (is that how you spell that?) They are the kids whose brother died, and they are being cut the biggest break ever. Sure, maybe they DO deserve it...not in THIS family. Excuses show weakness and show that you are afraid to accept responsibility. That is NOT what Cooper taught us.

His whole life, Cooper accepted his condition. Cooper only once told Sarah, "Momma, I don't want to do this anymore" as he was having to bear through another long, uncomfortable and painful procedure. But it was only a short time later, during an upper-GI as he was having more fluid than ever before forced into his small belly and Sarah was pleading with the radiologist to just stop, that he looked Sarah in the eyes and said, "Don't worry, Momma, I'll be okay." Then he powered through the remainder of the examination. He knew he had to be strong for her at that moment.

Cooper fought through the last second of his life...I know, I was there...holding his hand. It's his courage that inspired people the most, and still does today. We're all special--our entire family--and we are all changed forever. There is no going back.

But we're not special because we're the family of that sick kid that died. We're special because we had Cooper for his 4 years of life, and we will for the rest of our lives.

[begin tangent] He affected me so much that I cannot even miss his presence, because I see him every day. I see him in people doing right. I see him in a sunny day. I see him in the rain. I see him in the wind. I see him in a smile. Selfishly, I miss having him around to hug and hold and joke with...I miss hearing him say "I love you, Daddy." But I can still remember how his hugs feel...so it's not so bad. [end tangent]

We're special, and people will feel sorry for us; but we don't want them to. We can use excuses, and get away with it; but we know that is not right. And shame on me if I EVER use him as an excuse.

I think I'm going to call this "Part 1" and pick-up later. Those tangent thingies are apparently dangerous...I think it hit me in the eyes and got caught there. ANYWAY, I'll continue with a Part 2 later, because there's another story in this dinner conversation with the kids that is important to the point. It's worth the wait.

....and thank You for The Plumber. Amen.