Blogger fail - I didn't remember to take a picture of the kids with Trevor so I could post it today -- oh well, this recent one from the zoo will have to do:
Also, Trevor's family was compiling short essays on a part of life that they believe in. This is what he wrote, and I thought it was perfect for Father's Day - - enjoy:
“Will you push me on the swing, Dad?”
“Sure”. I stand behind the swing, pushing casually.
“Dad, do an UNDERDOG!”
At this point I have a decision to make. I’m comfortable where I’m at. Standing and pushing the swing
is easy and relaxing, and it certainly counts as quality parenting time. An Underdog is another story. It
takes oomph. It’s a commitment. Once I start an Underdog, I’m all in, no backing out.
Usually, hopefully, I’m up to the invitation. Grab swing with both hands, run fast, push swing up over
head, duck to avoid bare feet. Run straight for a bit to avoid the other swinging kid. Circle and repeat.
For me, it took no more time than a regular push. For my child, it turned an enjoyable swing into a
gravity-defying, touch-the-leaves-with-your-toes ride.
I’ve learned something from Underdogs. I can accomplish most things in life to a satisfactory level
of quality with regular effort. There’s nothing particularly wrong with regular effort. Regular effort
still gives hugs, tells bedtime stories, and pushes swings. However, with extra effort, the satisfactory
becomes the exhilarating. Hugs become tackles. Bedtime stories become adventures. Swing pushing
I don’t always do it, but I know I should. But when I do, its effort well spent. The results speak for
“Dad, do another UNDERDOG!”
I believe in the Underdog.