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Raising Them Right



My lovely wife is helping a friend prepare to move
(we're very sympathetic since it's what we were doing
a year ago, and as an added benefit to our friend, we
have a ton of boxes to donate).  This meant that I was
charged with the always-pleasant task of getting our
five-year-old son, Charlie, to and from preschool
today.

Oregon having recently enacted a law extending the
weight limit for children's safety seats to 60 lb (and
Charlie weighing in at 50), yesterday I fitted his
seat to my '74 Spider, "Baby," in preparation.  So
this morning, on a cold and not-quite-drizzling
January day, Charlie and I bundled up against the damp
and got into Baby for the drive to school.  Top down,
naturally.

A light mist on the windscreen made me glad we'd fixed
up the garage recently (thanks again, Jeff) so I could
park Baby inside after I returned home.  When it was
time to get him -- still cold and grey, though with no
falling mist by then -- I opted to leave the top down.
On the way from school to Charlie's favorite
restaurant (Les Arcs d'Or, naturellement), he
announced over the burble of the exhaust, "Dad, every
time you drive me somewhere, take Baby!"

After idling in the drive-through lane, I explained
the concept of the Italian Tune-Up to him as we
reached 6500 RPM in first gear up the slight incline
on the way home, and he offered to help me with the
spark plugs the next time I had to change them.  A
remarkable boy.

When we returned, he asked me if it was a work day,
and of course I had to say yes, it is.  So we
discussed basic family economics, that I do work for a
company and the company gives me money, and then fell
back on the old standby, the Socratic Method, to help
keep him involved in the next step.

"Then after *we* get the money, what do we buy with
it?" I asked him.

"Car parts," he said, without hesitation.

"That's right, and what else?"

"Tools!" he said, warming up to the concept.

"Yep, and anything else?"

"Motor things," he said.

It's moments like this that make a father's heart
swell with pride.

--Scott Fisher
  Tualatin, Oregon
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