As parents, we emphasize honesty (among other virtues) even when the truth may not be beneficial. Examples abound ... in our family, when we were still living in Florida, Will accidentally knocked down and shattered a lamp of mine that I had since I was 10 years old. When I came home from work, instead of waiting for me to discover the tragedy ... he walked up to me and told me right away, "Dad, I broke your lamp ... I'm sorry". How does one get mad at that? So, I channeled my inner-Patrick ...
My favorite story on this is from my childhood ... er, rather ... Terry's childhood and my high-school years. On a Saturday night, Mom and Dad went out for dinner. Terry and I had the house to ourselves and boy did we party!!! Terry got himself a big bowl of chocolate ice cream ... and as he made his way upstairs to watch TV in Mom and Dad's room (surely in their bed, too!), he slipped, he fell, and chocolate ice cream went everywhere on the green steps. There was an especially large stain that didn't come out. Terry was in a panic (as much of a panic as a 6 or 7 year old could be). "What do I do?" I told him that the best thing would be to tell Dad right away and be honest about it. (Meanwhile, I'll be waiting in my bed acting like I'm asleep). Thinking back on it ... who am I kidding ... Terry, as youngest, could have covered the whole house in chocolate ice cream and Dad wouldn't have done anything. Am I right? (11 heads nodding ... make that 12 heads nodding)
Well, Dad comes home ... very jovial ... a couple of Johnny Walker Reds in full effect ... and Terry greets him in the kitchen. "Dad, I'm sorry ... I spilled chocolate ice cream on the steps". "... Terence Alowiscious O'Houlahan Fleischer ... you're the best boy in the whole world ... yes, I'd love some chocolate ice cream" or something like that. Off. The. Hook.
Terry floated upstairs with a confidence so high ... "I AM the greatest boy in the whole world!"
Five minutes later, Dad went to his den for a minute or two, then made his way up the white steps. At the top, he looked down the green steps and saw the horror of a stain so large, so egregious, so ... chocolatey!!! "JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH ... WHO MADE THIS STAIN ON THE GREEN STEPS", he shouted. Terry, once again, stepped up ... but his words were not as quick or with enough vigor to match Dad's. In a matter of fifteen seconds, Dad had Terry AND I on our hands and knees scrubbing that stain out. Unbelievably, that stain seemed to come out a lot faster under Dad's watchful eye than the ten minutes or so that we spent on it an hour before.
So, keeping a secret in the North Carolina Fleischer family is hard to do. The kids know it ... and prod us with, "It's not nice to lie"; "Tell us the truth"; followed by a hundred questions ... "Are we going to Florida? Are we going to California? Are we going to New York? etc."
Towards the end of the Summer, we told the boys to do a PowerPoint presentation on the state of Vermont ... facts about the state, its economy, recent happenings, famous people / businesses from the state, etc. They didn't know why ... but they did the presentation while I was on a business trip. When I returned, they presented the information to Shelly and I. Afterwards, I told them that our special, secret trip this year was to go to a farm in Vermont. We were going to work on the farm ... wake up early, tend to chickens, milk cows, pick fruits and vegetables, ride horses, etc. We answered all their questions with this in mind ... and the boys peppered us with questions, both individually and together. Shelly and I would have to discuss each day's set of questions that we received from the boys, just to make sure we were on the same page. As we were nearing our departure date, I was actually looking forward to going to this fictional farm.
We (or I) made some mistakes along the way. Early in the summer, I mentioned that we might go to a restaurant where you pick your steak and grill it yourself around a large communal grill (I had visited such a restaurant on an earlier visit to Wisconsin years ago on business). Will did a simple Google search on restaurants that allowed you to grill your own food and the first link was for the restaurant in Wisconsin. D'oh! Luckily, there are similar restaurants in Texas, California, and New York.
The day before our departure, I had printed off the tickets for the Milwaukee Brewers baseball game we were going to (the day after the 49ers - Packers game) and mistakenly left them on the printer. Charlie printed something and when he retrieved his paper, saw the tickets with the Brewers logo ... and quietly smiled to himself. We gained a recruit in emphasizing how much fun the farm would be ... Will was still not convinced ... Max was thoroughly convinced and adamant about not getting into a canoe, even if it would take us to a small island for a bonfire and roasted marshmallows. (I'm telling you, this farm trip idea was really going to be Awesome!!!).
Will noticed that we were packing his Green Bay jerseys and sweatshirts the day before our departure ... recruit number two was secured to keep the secret for the lone stand-out - Max. Even when we were at the airport, and Max was with me as I showed him how to check-in and get our airline tickets, there was not a peep as the screen showed us the weather in Green Bay ... not until we got on the plane later in the day, that he finally put one and one together ... "So, that's why they were showing us the weather in Green Bay back in Raleigh!"
On to Green Bay!
That is exactly how I remember the "Ice Cream Incident." I remember that it was a hand packed pint of chocolate fudge from Baskin-Robbins that I could not finish in one sitting (who let's a 7 year old eat a whole pint of ice cream? where was the parental supervision?). There was about half of the ice cream left, half melted. As I tripped from the top step it left a stripe of chocolate splash across multiple steps before landing upside down. I remember the dread of waiting to tell Dad what happened. And I remember his glassy eyed acceptance of my apology. And the ensuing reaction he had when he saw the massacre on his new steps. Dad was so nice he later apologized to me for shouting.
ReplyDeleteWas the lamp that was broken that cool one that you could touch the base and it would turn on? That lamp was awesome.
Yes, Terry, that lamp WAS awesome ... until it met its match in Will. Funny thing ... Will has a touch lamp in his room today.
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