No Ordinary Men – Part III
There are few sounds more deafening, more bone-rattling, more explosive than The Look. And, boy, was I in for it this time.
If I thought Cute Redhead was going to take this one lying down, I had another thing coming. While Alpha Male and Beta Male set themselves to clog dancing on the roof (that’s what it sounded like), I girded my loins and met the full force of A Mother Scorned.
Well, not exactly scorned. More like Not Supported. And it’s just as bad. At least, that was her feeling. And, mind you, feelings were in no short supply. Feelings like:
“You basically took all my authority now and forevermore and nail-gunned it to the wall.”
“I didn’t exactly mean to, honey.”
“You threw my babies up on the roof—a roof crawling with live scorpions and hypodermic needles—but not before you slapped their MOTHER across the face.”
“Um…sweetheart? Could we throttle back just a sec—”
“And THEN! THEN you made sure they fall TO! THEIR! DEATH! and I can’t be there to save them! I hope you sleep well tonight, because you’re never waking up. I’m going to smother you in your sleep with a pillow. The same pillow I will use to cushion the same fall I was not there to prevent. Burn in Hell.”
Okay, it didn’t exactly go quite like that. But it was close. And by ‘close’ I mean we loved like cats and dogs for the next three days.
And I’m not kidding.
I joke about it, but it was then, and is now, something I refused to budge on and worked double-time to walk the very fine line between I Am Not Undermining You and Yes I’m Undermining You But This Is A Boy Thing And It Matters Big Time.
“You undermined me.”
“I know.”
“You are always doing that.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Are you at least going to go out there and stand there and make sure they don’t get hurt?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Same reason I’d never run out to the pitcher’s mound and give my son a sweater.”
“They could fall.”
“Yes.”
“They could break their arm.”
“Yes.”
“They could break a leg.”
“Yes.”
“So you agree this is dangerous and no mother in the world would let her second-grade son up on a roof.”
“Yes.”
“So why are you okay with it?”
“Because I’m a dad, not a mom.”
“I don’t agree with this. At all.”
“I know. But trust me on this one. This is important for them. I don’t want them afraid of the big things. I think we start out with little things and get them happy to try an—”
“Did I say I wanted a lecture? Because what I thought I said was I wanted your head on a platter.”
By now the boys had summited Everest, paddled down the Amazon, killed a bear, and lived in the wild for five months with nothing more than a knife and their Underoos. I figured enough was enough this time and decided to invite them back on terra firma.
They were gods, naturally. You probably didn’t know you could see to Montana from our roof. I mean Alaska. I mean Cape Horn.
You may be wondering how I navigated this one with Cute Redhead and the Spawn. Or, rather, I certainly hope you’re not wondering why. Because if I have to explain that to you, trust me, I couldn’t.
Still, I knew it had already been articulated better than I could myself, so, chancing a few steps within striking distance, set down in front of Cute Redhead the quotes already in Part I and in Part II.
Here’s the next excerpt…
“They could get themselves killed!”
“Then they will die in glorious defeat,” Merlin declared. Ectorius opened his mouth to protest, but my master stopped him, saying, “Ector, they will die one day in any event, and we cannot prevent that. Do you not see it?”
“No, I do not!” Extorius showed his contempt for such an idea. “This is needless hazard.”
“The dead are so long dead,” explained Merlin. “Better to have lived while alive, yes? Besides, if they achieve this, they will have conquered a giant; they will be invincible!”
“If they do not?”
“Then they will learn something about the limitations of men.”
“A costly lesson, it seems to me,” muttered Ectorius.
“Then it will be valued all the more. Come, be of good cheer, my friend,” coaxed Merlin. “If God and his angels stand ready to uphold them, can we do less?”
Ectorius lapsed into a sullen silence, and we turned our horses to follow the boys, catching them up some time later in one of the high meadows beneath the looming slopes as they stood discussing the best way to begin.
“Well? What is it to be?” asked Merlin.
“This appears to be the best way,” answered Arthur at once. “The others are too steep. On this side we can walk a fair way up.”
“Then get on with it,” Merlin told them, casting an eye toward the sun. “The best of the day is yours. We will make camp and wait you here.”
“He is right,” said Arthur to Cai, setting his jaw. “Let us begin.” Taking only a waterskin apiece and a couple barley loaves, they bade us farewell and began their assault on Eryri. We, in turn, began making camp and settled down to wait.”
-Arthur, Book Three of the Pendragon Cycle, by Stephen Lawhead
