I've been sitting here for what feels like ages (probably 5 minutes, but I've had 3 cups of coffee) trying to figure out how to introduce this blog. I wanted to build it up, you know, a classical build-up to a story. Rising action, climax, prologue, the whole thing. Why?
Look at the picture man!
There we were. A typical St. Louis summer day at Grant's farm. It's hot, St. Louis hot. The kind of heat that starts searing you the second you open the car door. It evaporates any A/C cooled air instantly and climbs into the car to get you. You are actually sweating before you even get out of the car.
Then you walk. Oh, do you walk. Across the blacktop parking lot which is more like a tar-lot, and into the tram, packed full of smelly, sweaty, hot humans. Once the tram got moving the breeze helped. I think the tram operator knew we were all hot because he was hauling ass. No one complained though. There were about 20 people riding with their heads out the window. We musta looked like a whole kennel of dogs riding in a clown car.
So its hot right, we get to the goats part, where you can feed them from the outside of their enclosure or the inside. I'm hot, pissed, and worried about my 7 month's pregnant wife. I'm not really down with going into the enclosure, thereby adding one more thing to worry about. Superman wants to go in though, and Jamie gives me the "take him in, its his first time" look. Well, I never win against that look, I am the king of doing things with James for the first time. I'm sure that will be on my tombstone.
Anyway, we go into the enclosure with the milk to feed them and the goats start swarming. I try to push them back and set James down so he can get a bearing on whats going on. They are dodging my leg sweeps though, and he is squirming so I set him down. He immediately goes to his haunches as a goat squares up about 6 feet away.
I've got the milk and I am trying to distract all the goats away from James, but this goat doesn't want the milk. He wants my kid's clothes. He starts in on James, taking slow steps, but coming nonetheless.
At about 4 feet James swings his arm out and gives the goat a big "NO". The goat pauses, then resumes his steady approach. James repeats his warning. The goat doesn't even stop this time. I'm about to intervene when my kid, without even rising up from his haunched position, slowly brings his arms and hands out in front of him. The goat walks right into the hands and James closes them around it's throat. It was spectacular. I'm not kidding it was methodical interdiction designed to put his hands on the goats throat at the furthest possible range. The goat hits the hands and jerks to a halt. James doesn't budge.
Time stopped, seriously, I couldn't believe I was watching James take on a goat, and he was holding the goat back. It was so primal, so savage, and strangely, satisfying.
My son had encountered something he had never seen before, stood up for himself, and gone mano a mano with the unknown.
No I am not being dramatic, its a metaphor, a blueprint, for how I want to teach him to take on the world.
I can't stop smiling.
