Chapter 26 - Backyard
We hosted a barbecue again the following summer.
Different house?
Same home.
No reason to flee.
Rafferty grilled.
I made salad.
Lysandra brought pie.
Ambrose did not attend.
Callum had not asked.
No issue.
There was a dog next door.
Small terrier.
Barked.
Callum startled.
Then kept playing.
That was all.
Later he asked:
“Can Scout sit table?”
His stuffed dog.
“He's filthy.”
“Grandma Lysandra says guests.”
Lysandra laughed.
“I did not say stuffed animals get chairs.”
Callum put Scout on extra chair anyway.
Normal family nonsense.
Then Rafferty pulled me aside.
“My dad called.”
“Okay.”
“He asked if he could come next year if Callum wants.”
“What did you say?”
“I said Callum decides with us and therapist if needed.”
Good.
Not:
Never.
Not:
Sure.
Boundary.
Then he said:
“I hate that I still want Dad here.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Feels disloyal to Callum.”
“No.”
“Doesn’t?”
“You can miss your father and still keep your son safe.”
He nodded.
Then:
“I also hate that I still hear him when Callum gets scared.”
“What does he say?”
“Don't feed it.”
I smiled sadly.
“What do you say?”
“Depends.”
Good.
Not reverse ideology.
Sometimes fear should be accommodated.
Sometimes gently challenged.
The difference is not:
Always stop.
Always push.
The difference is who gets to define safety and how much control the child has.
Then Callum ran over.
“Dad!”
“What?”
“Cousin Jake says I’m scared of trampoline.”
Rafferty looked at him.
“Are you?”
“Little.”
“Want to try?”
“Maybe.”
“Want me there?”
“Yes.”
They walked.
Callum climbed one step.
Stopped.
“Not today.”
Rafferty said:
“Okay.”
No disappointment.
No speech.
May you like
He walked back.
That one “okay” took Rafferty forty years to learn.
