Parenting will take you to many strange places.
Like to your knees.
First, in the early days when you would leave your little lump with a toothless crackhead if she would guarantee you five uninterrupted hours of sleep.
And then later, in the crowded waiting room of a doctors office when you are nose to nose with a three-year old in the thick of a tantrum, delivering death threats through gritted teeth and a plastic smile.
And of course, when you hit your knees in prayers of thanks for these amazing, perfect little people you've created. Hoping to the heavens above that you don't screw them up.
And to stranger places still.
Like last night, when I found myself in my garage with one wide-eyed Monster-Monkey. We were squared off. Him, clad only in his football girdle and socks and me, engaged in the best three-point stance that eight months of pregnancy will allow. My purpose? To demonstrate the singular purpose of a nose guard, to absorb multiple blockers and knock people on their ass, not to put to fine a point on it.
Am I so dedicated to the game of football that I felt it necessary to conduct a post-practice technique seminar in our stuffy, stagnant garage? No.
But after watching our Monkey meander about mindlessly during a live scrimmage, giving a half-assed effort where full steam ahead was warranted, I knew instinctively that he was over thinking the game. As I watched my Monster I could actually see the wheels in his head turning, trying to make sense of the pile of players as they converged on the line of scrimmage.
Wonder where we'll go next.