My son will be a father this month. That’s still sinking in. Thought it might be a nice time to recall this post from April 30, 2007. You know, even though, he’s a full-grown man, I still want to protect my son and soon, my grandaughter too.
My son wants to go to Starbucks...
My son wants to go to Starbucks with all the other 11-year-old-boys and girls in the neighborhood, tearing up the street to the coffee castle four blocks from our home.
"Dad, all the kids go," he says.
I think, but don't say, "Yea, well, all their parents are too preoccupied with their cell phone trysts and BMW payments to consider the downside to having your child at a coffee bar on the busiest street in town, just a stroll from the commuter rail crossing. And besides, you don't even drink coffee."
But that's beside the point because all of the kids go.
My wife asks one of the neighborhood moms whose daughter, also 11, has had her own cell phone for three years: "What's the deal with Starbucks?"
“Oh, it's just the latest thing," the Mom responds.
Just the latest thing? And what will be the next thing? Defying curfew? Drinking before prom? Ditching school?
I remember when our son started to crawl. We spent a day placing safety plugs in all the outlets, putting the breakables, and storing the cleaning supplies up on high shelves.
How do we go about making our neighborhood safe?
I make no promises about tomorrow, but at least for today, my son is not going to Starbucks. His posture slumps, his gaze lowers, he answers in a whisper that he understands. But the cloud of disappointment hangs heavy around his shoulders.
Tonight, while my family sleeps, I'll stroll the neighborhood with our yellow dog, looking for outlets I can plug and poisons I can place out of reach.