What every boy wants to be when he grows up

Every little boy wants to be something when he grows up. As a former little boy, I can assure you of that. I can also tell you a boy’s dream is apt to change and evolve throughout his life.

Ask my grandson James what he wants to be when he grows up and a portion of the answer is likely to vary from one day to the next. On any given day, you may hear doctor or fighter pilot or astronaut. Each of these fine pursuits, however, would be noted with an asterisk as the boy would be happy to work to cure cancer, shoot down enemy aircraft or rocket off to the moon just as long as it didn’t interfere with his dearest dream of growing up to operate heavy construction equipment. Time will tell if he can truly have it both ways. (Sooner or later we’re going to need a bulldozer on the moon. After all, how could they build a dollar store next to every crater without one?)

Running right alongside the dream of doing something really cool and exciting when he grows up, every boy dreams someday, somewhere, somehow he’ll be recognized as a hero. This may be a bit tougher to plan for as one never knows when the opportunity will arise. Some men live their entire lives waiting for the moment. James’ wait lasted just a shade of over three years.

As the family legend will henceforth be told, three generations of our clan were bunked in a two-room cabin in middle Wisconsin. Hotter than fiery sin that summer, the door to the cabin was to remain closed, carefully preserving the air-conditioned oasis for the nighttime when six humans and three big dogs would congregate inside to breathe the same air, stumble over one another and make largely futile attempts at sleep.

The youngest among us, 18-month-old Max, had no issues falling asleep and would happily retire to nap in a playpen in the cabin during the hottest part of each day while the rest of us recreated by swatting deer flies on the front porch. It was during one such a siesta that the “always shut” door inadvertently wound up locked — the key sitting within full view on the countertop inside.

Grandma’s flip to panic mode was instantaneous. She immediately commenced on a path that could only have led to an eventual 911 call, a campground filled with screaming sirens and a $500 door replacement added to our camp tab. Grandpa, on the other hand, chose to scope the perimeter for another way in, and I found it in the form of a small sliding window behind a pop-out screen.

Only one among us could make the slip through the narrow window. James’ moment had arrived! His father and I briefed him on the mission, and while my own 1960s television-show-inspired training urged me to add the line, “Your mission, if you choose to accept it,” the youngster had little time to carefully consider the matter.

“We’re going to put you through the window, and then you run and open the door, OK?”

No sooner was it spoken than it was done — and with only a brief moment of kicking and screaming. Seconds later our little hero emerged from the newly unlocked door to be celebrated as a hero.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John atjlorson@alonovus.com.