Coconut, Anyone?

My poor dog, Khaki. While on spring break, she got to go on SO many walks. Spur of the moment kind of walks. Long walks that made her collapse into her water bowl. Short jaunts to check out the lake or little coffee shop down the street. Walking was so easy and dogs were so welcome at the beach. Back home, well, sorry Khaks. The backyard will just have to do.

One of our spontaneous walks was to a seafood place down the street. For years, Tom and I have passed it and wondered... was it a market or a tiny restaurant? Deciding I would find out, I grabbed the leash and yelled at Jack to get his bike. Jack and Khaki never need much of an excuse to explore. Jack would ride his bike way far ahead then come back. Khaki would saunter, then break suddenly to sniff. Saunter. Sniff. Saunter. Sniff. "Why does she stop so much?!", he says-- disgusted in a way only a pre-teen can be. "This is her way of getting news. She sniffs to find out who's new to the area. Who's sick. Who's looking for a girlfriend.", I say --pleased with my creative answer. "oh.", he says. Half moan, half eye roll, peddling off to see and to be seen.

This is the first year that Tom and I have noticed that Jack cares about how he looks. Usually, he wears only one t-shirt on vacation, even though I've packed many. Crying with the zeal of a newborn when he couldn't wear gym gear to a nice restaurant. This year, I notice him checking himself in my sunglasses, taking time to see if clothes actually "match" and developing quite the love affair with AXE shower gel. I yell at him, "Hey! Can you come hold Khaki while I run into this seafood place for a menu?!" He peddles back, glaring at me with all his pre-teeness. He drops his bike. I'm sure I heard a mutter. Ugh. "He's getting so big", I think to myself.

It takes me longer than I expect inside the seafood place. Turns out it's a fresh seafood market. I linger around to get the lay of the land. Study the process for ordering and buying. Take mental notes on any terminology/lingo that may be useful if I get enough nerve to actually buy something. Satisfied, I go back outside.

There's Khaki, loosely tied (dangling, really) to a pole. The bike still on its side in the parking lot... where's Jack? Oh, there he is. Scaling a palm tree like a primate. "Of course", I sigh. I guess I shouldn't worry too much about him growing up. He's still not so self-conscious that he doesn't see anything wrong with climbing a palm tree next to the highway and in front of a strip mall. I stand next to the palm tree and look at my son. Grinning from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment. And, I'm jealous. Slyly, I think to myself, "I bet I could do it." For a second, I think about kicking off my shoes and giving it a whirl. Then I realize, I am a grown up. I had my chance to climb palm trees. I wouldn't have done it though. My 11 year old self would have cared what other people (correction, just the boys) would have thought. Now, I don't care but I'm too old. I'm certain I would injure something and my son would die of embarrassment. So, I decide to praise him for his achievement. Tell him he's awesome and ask him to show me his technique. He scales back down and patiently shows me how to hold your feet, just so. How to hold tight with your arms, pull your legs up to your arm pits. Grasp the trunk with your toes ("like hands, mom"). Reach up, grasp with your hands again to repeat the process. Amazing. Still, I think I'll leave the tree climbing to him for as long as he wants to do it.