Heart in a Tree.

Pardon my absence this past week, but I've been up to my eyeballs in researching boy names. Again.

At this point in time? If there's a boy name out there, I've seen it. And I've probably written it on my list and then erased it a time or two. Or three. The good news in all of this is, we've discovered three names that we really like. The bad news is... well, now we have to pick one of those three.

My hairz iz turning gray.

Now, let me tell you a story about a boy and his rocket.

The story begins long ago, with a little boy named Chris. Little Chris was obsessed with model rockets. He was constantly saving up all his money to buy bigger, better rockets, and he would spend hours launching them with his friends after school.

Fast forward about 17 years. Now, Chris is a daddy. And he felt it high time to introduce his three-and-a-half year old son, Ezra, to the passion of his youth.



Mommy had reservations when she saw that the box suggested such rockets for children ages TWELVE AND UP. Yet, mommy held her tongue, because, well... sometimes mommies can be too uptight about things. And Chris is older than twelve. (He'll be 27 on Wednesday! Woot!)





Chris and Ezra built the rocket together with more joy and anticipation than all of the children who are currently within the gates of Disneyworld COMBINED. They were outrageously giddy. In fact, Mommy couldn't even tell which of them was having more fun. (Although she admits she was leaning towards the big, bearded, lanky one.)

After much setup, and practically re-creating a science lab right there in a big empty field near our house, the boys were ready to launch.







Mommy felt some trepidation and was quite certain that this little family moment would be headlining the evening news later that very night. She cowered many yards away and said the Lord's prayer while the boys counted down to Blast Off.

I should mention that in alllll of this large, empty field, there was but ONE lonesome tree. A tree that was far, far from where the launch was to take place. Chris was worried about this tree, while mommy simply said "Hah! It's much too far away to be a nuissence!" Little did she know....

5.....4......3.....2.....1.... LAUNCH!

Ezra pushed the button and activated the rocket, which sounded like a volcanic erruption... AMPLIFIED. This tiny little rocket flew straight into the sky and disappeared from my sight and circled the moon, whizzing grey smoke behind it as it entered the restricted federal air space above our heads.

IT. WENT. HIGH.

Then, a little yellow parachute popped out of the top of it, and it slowly started to re-enter the earth's atmosphere.

Down, down, down, it came. All of our eyes were intently following its descent. Our eyes followed it all the way down, as far as they could, until it finally disappeared... into the very top of the lonesome tree.

It was lost. And Ezra was inconsolable. He just couldn't understand. Promises of a new rocket only upset him more... fresh wails and tears would flow with every new bribe. A new train? WAAAAH!!! A better rocket? WWAAAAHHH!!!!!! And on and on and on.

What a sad trio we were.

Finally, he calmed down and we resumed our evening- talking to him about loss and how hard that lesson can be. (Even all these years later!) Ezra was a trooper. He told everyone we met that night about his wocket in the twee. Sympathies abounded.

Our story would have ended there, except for the fact that Chris just couldn't stand to see his son so heartbroken.

So, this afternoon, he snuck off while Ezra and I were napping, and he revisited that tree. He took a good look at its MASSIVE height, and then proceeded to climb it. {**insert wifely heart attack here**} He climbed all the way to the top, unhooked the rocket from the limb it was resting on, and brought it back home to surprise his son.

He's an awesome dad.

But... I'm really beginning to think that those model rocket boxes should be marked as age TWENTY EIGHT and up.