Every year, twice a year, our family escapes to Jamaica. That’s how we roll. Some couples spend their money on marriage counseling . . . my wife and I go to Jamaica, alone. And because we like it so much, we also take the family down for spring break.
Same beach, different vibe. Ya mon.
My baby girl is getting older. She is my civilizing force. I remember what it was like to be a teenage boy and I didn’t have tools like, sexting, e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, the Internet! It’s frightening out there. When I look at my girl and consider the spirit of this age, I shudder.
But this is Negril and she is a child. I still have time, I think, as we walk down the same beach that her mother and I enjoyed a few months earlier, holding hands and picking up shells.
Same beach, different vibe. Ya mon.
That’s when my girl noticed the huge trampoline floating a hundred yards off shore! She wanted some of that action. No problem! For most of the week, my children, their friends and tons of tourists and locals enjoyed that trampoline -- bouncing, diving, tanning… paradise!
It doesn’t matter the country, the ethnicity, or the culture, when adolescent teenage boys hang out in packs, inevitably your parental radar kicks in.
Call it the Lord of the Flies syndrome.
Negril’s beach is public (all beaches in Jamaica are public), and occasionally large packs of fun loving teenage boys bum rushed the trampoline driving everybody else off.
King of the Hill
On the last day of our vacation my daughter walked up to me and said, “Daddy? I want to play on the trampoline.” I looked up. Rats, the king was on his hill.
Sigh.
My wife chimed in, “Honey, your daughter wants to play on the trampoline.” Damn! Mommy pressure. I could hear my late friend Uncle Ed in my head, “Harris, man up!”
So as I wade into the turquoise deep with my girl floating beside me, I stare at the king. As my baby swims toward the trampoline, I stare at the king. As she climbs the ladder to board the float, the king moves to block her. The other kings in waiting have given way; the king of the hill has a decision to make.
My daughter looked back at me and said, “Daddy?”
That’s the snap shot, the picture in my mind that I will never forget. In that moment, I knew that it was only going to get more difficult from here on . . . that in just a few short years, she’s not going to look back for me. That one day, some fool on bended knee is going to come talking some jibberish and “yadda, yadda, yadda…” Oh, man!!!
Sigh.
But, not today! I can still see her, one foot in the turquoise surf hanging on to the ladder, her way blocked by the king of the hill. I looked at him and simply said, “excuse me?”
He moved aside.
As my little girl bounced around on the trampoline she was all smiles! In a few short years, she will not remember my heroic actions and the reigning king of the hill won’t be trying to keep her off that trampoline, will he? He’ll say, “Ya mon, may I offer you my hand?”
And, I’ll be right there to cut it off!
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