Choose Your Own Adventure

Did you ever read those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books when you were a kid? They're not great literature, and sometimes not even great stories, but it was still fun to read them. It was fun the first time through just because you got to be in charge of where the story went. When you finished, it was just as fun to go back and try out different choices and see how that affected the story.

Yesterday when I was out at the beach in Muskegon, I thought about those books. The pier (or breakwall, I don't actually know the correct term) in Muskegon has giant rocks all along it. When I say "giant," think "squared off hunks of rock that are the size of cars or, in some cases, vans." Because the rocks are squared off and have flat sides, it's pretty easy to walk along them. Pretty easy. The challenge comes in when there is a good sized gap between rocks. When that happens, you might have to jump. Sometimes the rocks are tipped with an edge facing up, making a terrible landing spot for the jump. When that happens, or if the gap is too large, you have to choose another path. Other dangers involving the water are also close at hand. Rocks that are constantly wet are slippery with mossy seaweed and are off limits.

I don't usually walk on the rocks. I stay up on the flat, dry, safe pier itself. It's my children, all three, ages 7-12, who walk on the rocks. That's actually the reason I stay up on the pier. I'd have to choose between watching where I was walking and watching where they were walking if I was on the rocks. Besides the fact that there is actual danger in what they are doing, I just simply enjoy watching them on the rocks.

The 12 year old is very confident; he's been doing this for years. He likes to pick the most challenging path he can find. He likes to go right out to the edge of the dry rocks, down underneath the rocks into "caves," and across gaps to landings that require he immediately spring to the next rock because they are no landing at all. He likes to have one foot on each of two rocks and jump back and forth between them, inching higher with each jump.

The youngest is much more cautious because this is the first year she's been allowed to follow along. She stands on one rock for a moment, sizing up the gap to the next rock.

"Do you think I can make it Mom?" she asks.

"What do you think?" I say. "If you don't feel confident, don't do it."

"I think I can!"

"Ok, go for it then." I watch as she pushes off and lands with bent legs, leaning too far over so that she has to catch herself with her hands. "Perfect!"

"Are you proud of me mom?" she asks.

"I'm proud of you for thinking for yourself and making your own decision." I say. (I mean, after all, who wants a kid who thinks she has to take crazy risks to make you proud of her?!)

The middle one, like always, has moved off on her own. She doesn't need me to watch her in order to feel the joy of what she's doing. She's testing her bravery, her strength, her judgment, and it feels good. She doesn't need an audience to make the experience complete. I watch, of course, anyhow. I so enjoy the satisfied smile on her face as each decision plays out, and she knows that she's chosen well.

As I walk along, enjoying the moment, I'm glad they have this place, this time. Too much of their lives is scripted, prescribed and safe. I hope that the joy I get from watching them motivates me to let a little rock wall walking seep into their everyday lives.