My Second Son

 

What about second sons?

When they figure out their older brother has secured the patent on proper, compliant behavior (or, shall we say, the appearance of proper, compliant behavior), they know—by instinct it seems—that to gain a purchase in the attention-grabbing game they will have to be creative. There is a gleam/spark in a second son’s eye, a certain kind of jaunty grin on a second son’s face. I saw that grin on Prince Harry’s face during the Royal wedding. Yeah! That grin! I think the jockeying for position gives second sons dexterity, elasticity, jocularity.

You, Carson, my beloved son, are a second son.

I wish now that I had been given a manual tucked into the swaddling clothes when they laid you in my arms.  “This one is different. You need to be different with this one.”  That I didn’t adapt my parenting, that I didn’t change is my regret. And, shame, I can’t get a do-over, can I? silly

You come from some solid second-son stock. Grandpa, whom you resemble, is a second son. Your Uncle Scott, part of the SS Society, was always rooting for you, sort of a co-belligerent against your dad. He would boom, “I understand that boy!” 

And now your nephew. The one whose mom called you up and asked, “How did I get your son?”  Oh my, how we delight in that kiddo. It is pure fun to recognize his personality as it emerges. We know Preston; we can predict what he will do, the looks he will give, the shrugs, the determination, the focus. Because he is you.  And—glory!—you now have your own little Levi, that boy who knows what he wants and can’t sit still. 

You probably don’t know that your other grandpa, my dad, was also a second son. I hear he gave his mom a run for her money. Especially since his dad was gone all the time. Here’s one story: he spouted off in the car and his mom responded, “Johnny, we are going to stop for ice cream cones, but you will not be having any.”  As they continued driving, they almost passed the Red Robin. Little Johnny piped up, “Oh Mother! Do make sure you stop for ice cream for everyone else!”

God surely likes second sons. That would be an interesting study, wouldn’t it? Isaac, Jacob, Ephraim, Solomon.

It is a mercy that our troubles are behind us. That I can look at our differences with wonder and delight. That you can see our similarities…and smile. That we love each other and love to hang out with each other. That your dad enjoys you immensely. We like to talk about you, you know.

Oh my son, you are truly blessed.

What I see in you are the same characteristics you had as a lad. Back then, your stubbornness was frustrating; now it looks more like persistence. Back when I disciplined the Stoic you, nothing made you flinch. Or blink.  But a few weeks ago, you allowed yourself one yelp when you hurt your hand, and then determined to not make another peep about the pain.

You notice details.

You like systems.

You don’t complain.

You are generous.

You take risks.

You are fun to be with.

You take charge of your sons.

You bring flowers to your wife.

And life is so full of surprises.  You—the kid whom I had to force to read a book—regularly read to your son.

Happy Birthday, Carson. I love you more than all the books in the world.

 

Advertisements

7 thoughts on “My Second Son

  1. I paid very close attention to this. My second son is giving me a run for my money. Was yours a commedian? Paul played a practical joke on his baby sitter which involved planning and an understanding of what her reaction would be to his scenario. It is cute, for now.

  2. These birthday sentiments are such a treasure.  I imagine some great-grandson stumbling upon this letter in a box of stuff from the *old* house.  May God richly bless Carson down through the generations.

  3. I have one of those! And he’s my second as well.  He is my clown and my sympathetic listener, and my blunt exhorter.My eldest son is solid, dependable and always tender.  He was as you say, good at compliance and “the system”.  When little Stevie showed up, we were taken by surprise!  I’m overwhelmed with God’s grace given to us mothers of godly sons.

Comments are cinnamon on my oatmeal!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s