Recently, we were sitting at the round dining table that my brother-in-law made for us. We had just finished eating supper. Son #1 had already finished and was off exploring the world.
We heard the sound of chaos coming from the other room, a sound which was soon followed by Ferdinand Magellan hopping into the living room.
He was crying, and he had a red mark forming on one side of his cheek.
“Momma!” It’s never me he goes to when he’s hurt. I’m way down on the list of his go-to comforters. “Momma, I hurt myself!” The tears were cascading.
Momma didn’t press very hard on the reasons behind the boo-boo. But I did.
“What happened, Son #1?”
“I fell off the mountain!” He exclaimed through his tears.
“What mountain?”
“The tall one.”
“Which tall one?”
“The one with the volcano!”
“Which one has the volcano?”
“The one with the lava flowing down it!”
“Where is this mountain?”
“In Colorado!”
At this point, I was getting flustered. I wanted to know what he was doing, where he was in our house, and how he fell. But I played along.
“Where at in Colorado?”
“In the national forest.”
My goodness. He wasn’t going to tell me what really happened.
“Why were you on a tall, active, volcanic mountain in the national forests of Colorado?”
“I was climbing it.”
Sigh.
“What did you fall on.”
“You mean, who?”
“What?”
“I fell on Son #2.”
We looked around frantically for Son #2. He was fine. We asked him what happened, and he pointed to the back of his head.
“Yeah, I hit my cheek on the back of his head.” Son #2 has a hard head.
Son #1 was finally able to see through the scenes of his imagination. He was climbing on something he shouldn’t have. And it wasn’t a tall, active volcanic mountain with flowing lava.
But when you climb on what you shouldn’t, and without the proper climbing gear, it might as well be Mount Everest.
to the climbers,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 