wisdom

I love how my son Graden’s mind works. He’s been brilliant and confident since birth.

We were driving through the desert near Paige Arizona when he was about two, and encountered an incredibly scary and dangerous thunder and lightening storm. You’d have to be acquainted with my ex… the person that he was oh, at least sixteen years ago, to understand why this became more of a “thing” than necessary. Let’s just say that driving fast or with unlimited access in any climate was prerequisite… and never questioned. He owned a four-by-four, gigantic mofo truck with a huge lift kit (the kind I needed a running start to get into), so he believed he was impervious to any climate or environment while driving.  Scale a vertical cliff in the truck? Yup. Drive 70 miles an hour in a monsoon, with zero visibility? You betch-ohhh ass, dad-gummit.

I tried to mask my fear for Graden’s sake, because the alternative was to go bat shit crazy in the car, and that wouldn’t do  anyone any good. I opted to keep my bat shit to myself. I wanted him to believe we were all very safe, and daddy knew what he was doing. NOT. But his peace was most important to me. I couldn’t do anything about the thunder and lightening show, and certainly couldn’t help that we appeared to be driving through the car wash from hell.

When the lightening and subsequent thunderous cracks in the sky drew ever so close, and deafened our ears, it was Graden who said something.

Graden: Mom?

Me:  Yeah honey?

Graden: Can you turn it off?

I knew instantly what he meant. Make the lightening and thunder stop. His dad and I exchanged knowing glances, his dad, finding this extremely amusing.

Me: Oh honey, no, I can’t turn it off.

Graden: Why?

Me: Because honey, only God can turn it off.

There was a pause for a minute, as Graden pondered this, no doubt envisioning a mean old God up in the sky looking down at us, on-off switch nearby, but was he doing anything? No. He was grinning with devious glee as he watched the little people down below cower in fear over his power.

Apparently Graden would have none of it.

Graden:  I’ll turn it off.

Me (sideways glancing at his dad): You will?

Graden: Yeah.

I laughed a bit, and was awed by this kid, sitting peacefully in his car seat, contemplating how he was going to take charge.

Me: Okay, honey. If you can turn it off, then you do that.

There was a long pause… while Graden thought about how and where to do this…

Graden: Where is it?

 

Ya gotta hand it to kids. They really do know what to say to make everything better.