Becoming a Man

When you share a home with young children, there is really only one room in the house where you can truly find solitude. If you have any imagination at all, I am sure that you already know where that one room is, so there is no need for me to delve into any specific details. One day last week after a particularly hectic day at work, I came home and retreated to my place of solitude for a few minutes before facing the realities of fatherhood that awaited me on the other side of the door. Armed with a new magazine, I entered the room and settled in for a few moments of periodical perusal. As I flipped through several ads trying to find some interesting content, I heard the unmistakable sound of fear projecting from my daughter’s voice.

“Daddy!” she yelled from somewhere just beyond my door. “There’s something ugly on the floor!”

Trying to calm her down without losing my place, I asked, “What is it?” my voice just loud enough to slide along the tile floor and slip out from beneath the door. Hoping she wasn’t about to say anything about her younger sister and a diaper, I anxiously awaited her response.

“I think it’s a spider,” she said in a calmer, but still frightened voice. “Come and get it.” Let me be clear now. My day, up this point, had been filled with one crisis after another and I was the only one who had been able to deal with each of them. The last thing I wanted to do was to leave my place of solitude and my magazine to squish a harmless spider. There had to be some other way to tend to my daughter’s anguish while simultaneously protecting my sanity.

Thinking fast, I replied, “Zach! Go get a tissue and take care of the spider.” Zach is six and hates spiders as much as his sister. What was I thinking? There is no way the little guy was going to smash a spider with a tissue, even if it was Puffs Plus with aloe. He just doesn’t smash spiders. He runs from them and hides until I come and take care of the problem. Did I really think a six-year-old boy with arachnophobia would defend his sister from the villainous spider crawling across the floor?

“There aren’t any tissues left,” he replied. That figures. At least he didn’t freak out and run away. I began to consider my options. Realizing that it was my fatherly duty to attend to my daughter’s needs and confront the issue of the ugly spider head on, I summoned my courage. As I was preparing to return my new unread magazine to the rack, I was interrupted by the sound of cheering.

“What are you doing now?” I hollered back at the closed door.

“Zach got the spider!” she yelled.

“He did what?” I asked.

“Zach got the spider,” she replied.

“How?”

“There were no tissues left, so I got a napkin from the table and smashed it and then I threw it in Cami’s diaper trash can,” he replied, clearly proud of his accomplishment. Well, now I had to emerge from my hideout if only to congratulate my son on becoming a man. Not only had he warded off an intruder, but he had defended his sister with great dignity. A true rite of passage, indeed.

“I’m proud of you, Buddy,” I told him post flush as a chivalrous grin spread across his now manly face. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go shave.”