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100%

June 12, 2009

The crazy weekend is over, and I’m putting Logan to bed on a school night.  He’s had a conversation with Mom about the odds of this trip coming together, my own misgivings, and the trump cards that might yet shut it down – a medical emergency, etc.  It’s after his bath, and I’m rebrushing his too-long hair, and he asks, “So, what percent are we going to do the, you know, 50skatekid, next year?” 

It’s an innocent question.  He’s a realist, painfully self-aware, and unsettlingly perceptive around practical issues.  He just wants to know where he stands.  He’s been tolerating my political sidestepping of commitment for weeks, although he recognizes the wisdom of thorough consideration.  With Mom already on board, barring catastrophe, he knows I’m the last gate.

I’m sure he’s also figured out that I tend to see things through.  An out of the box idea like “Let’s go live in Japan for a year” turned into three years.  When we couldn’t afford to buy a home, I convinced my wife we should build a house from a kit.  For me, it was my wife who needed to give her consent, and that was the moment it was authorized, and as good as done, in my mind.  When she came back from a bike ride and said we could go to Japan, or when she signed the deposit check for the house kit. 

I don’t think about this when he asks me, but I peek inside my decision-making-machine, and realize that the engine is still, its task complete.  “Logan,” I hold his shoulders, “100%.  We’re going.”  He doesn’t hug me, but gives a little fist pump and hisses “Yes!” and marches off to bed, having sealed the deal and already thinking about next steps.  I choke back some emotion, and marvel at the enormous impact this tiny moment will have on his life, and mine, and on our whole family, but it’s so paradoxically uneventful.

I find him dutifully in bed, fingering the threadbare tail of his stuffed dog.  “Can we print the T-shirts, now?” he asks, matter-of-factly.

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