Watching the Waves

"Who's my good best friend I got?" -A question my Grandpa Sal routinely asked his 15 grandchildren, creating a very fierce competition.

My Grandpa Sal is one of my favorite people ever. Gregarious, loving, and loyal, he lit up a room even when he wasn't getting involved in everything going on in it. (We call my mom - his daughter - "Parsley" because she gets into everything. He was the original Parsley.) He and my Grandma Sylvia lived in the house behind us growing up. Our backyards connected. As a boy, I thought it was amazing to have my grandparents so close. We could eat meals at each other's houses any day we wanted. As a married man with in-laws, I realize my dad was a saint for buying his first home so close to his in-laws. And as a result he is certainly in heaven right now, having earned his place and then some.

Gramps with my niece, whose name he
couldn't pronounce. July 1985.

One of the most memorable things Grandpa Sal did was crash our swimming pool. We'd be in the pool in our backyard, and he'd stop whatever project he was working on in his, ambling through the gate between the two properties. Without saying a word, as we worked ourselves up into a frenzy anticipating the coming tidal wave, he soaked up our cheers and climbed onto the diving board. He'd proceed to perform a massive belly flop that was always meant to be a dive, swim to the shallow end while spitting water out of his mouth with every stroke, exit through the stairs at the opposite end of the pool, climb the slide and shimmy down it head first. Euphoric, my cousins, friends, and I would splash him and dunk him. He still wouldn't speak a word. The maestro of mayhem would then exit the pool, walk back to his yard, take off his swim trunks (yes, right there for all to see), hang them to dry, change back into his overalls and continue his work.

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A Flood of Memories, Washed Away

"When your best hopes and desires are scattered to the wind. And hard times come, and hard times go, and hard times come, and hard times go. Yeah just to come again, bring on your Wrecking Ball." -New Jersey's own Bruce Springsteen

Typing the title to this post brought tears to my eyes. I see the pictures and they're heartbreaking. Devastating. I know these are just things, places that can and will be rebuilt. But they're more than that to me.

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The End of the Innocence

"We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by, and the tall grass wave in the wind." -Don Henley

There is a fine line between sheltering your child and protecting her. I want to protect her for as long as I can.

Bad role models...

I don't want her to know about the bad things in the world just yet. The evil, the death, the trash on the show "Jersey Shore." Trust me... I grew up there. I'm proof you can survive the Jersey Shore but not become "Jersey Shore."

...good Halloween costumes

She's too young.

One day I came home from work and my daughter was watching a movie. It was a rainy day and she had had blood taken earlier in the day, so I was fine with her watching a movie. I wasn't fine with what she was watching.

"Tangled."

When this movie came out in theaters, we heard from some other parents that it was scary. That it had some adult themes.

"Tangled:" Appropriate for 4 year-olds?

But there it was, on my television.

I bit my tongue because my wife was having a stressful week at work and staying late for a third day in a row. I did this... for two days. (And I thought giving up chocolate for Lent was a challenge).

When I finally brought it up, nonchalantly, I told my wife my concern. She then revealed to me that she approved the movie. But why?

A few days later, at dance class, I was talking to a group of parents about "Tangled" as our daughters pranced and pirouetted in the next room. None of them seemed to think it was that bad at all. In fact, they all thought it was great for four year-olds. That night I watched it with her. We both enjoyed it. It was fine... except for the end, with the stabbing someone with a knife and the throwing someone else out of a window.

Am I being too protective?

Maybe. Maybe not...

In a year and a half, she'll be in Kindergarten. Then, first grade. That's when those rotten older kids will get a hold of her. Tell her there's no Santa. Tell her mommy and daddy are going to die some day. Tell her God knows what else.

The time for her to be carefree is running out. The time when her only concerns are what outfits she's dressing her Lammies in, how many green beans she has to eat to be finished, and what crayon to color with. I cherish this time and hold on to it tightly.

The treasure she unearthed

Later that same night that my wife and I had that conservation, my daughter was rummaging through one of our bookshelves. It aggravates us to no end when she sneaks into the guest bedroom and plays with our books because of the mess it makes and the potential harm she could do to one of the books. On that night her rummaging unearthed a treasure: a homemade bookmark from my nephew. He was four years-old at the time. My daughter's age now. It was inside a book that my sister - his mother - had given me for my college graduation. It was from a time where my nephew was still a blonde haired kid running around and making us laugh. Just like my daughter. Innocent. Perfect. Unaffected.

Now, he's the one in college. I almost broke down.

Trust me... no child of mine is going to be soft. But I'll keep her world as safe and peaceful as I can for as long as I can.

**We use this site to help determine whether a movie is age appropriate. It's says "Tangled" is ok... so maybe I'm just a big pain in the a$$: http://www.commonsensemedia.org/

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