“No daddy! I can’t do this! I’m so scared,” cried my son as he stared down to the ground 25 feet below. “Please, I want to go down!”
Tears streamed down his eyes and his nose started running. His initial enthusiasm for the “Sky Hike” quickly broke down as the reality of the situation hit him. There was nothing between him and the safety of the ground except for a tiny rope stretched between platforms. It didn’t matter the he was firmly attached to a rope. He didn’t understand safety devices made it impossible to fall. He just knew that he was really, really high and really, really scared.
Last year, my son, Jay, got to go to Stone Mountain Park with his cousin. Apparently, the Sky Hike was the highlight of the trip. It’s basically a ropes course, where you strap into a metal grid and walk several feet over the air on ropes, narrow beams and the like. It’s a lot tougher than I thought it was. But since it closed for the winter soon after he went, this was his first time to go back. He was so excited, and ran through the little kids version of the ropes course with no problem. Eve then suggested going on the “big kids” Sky Hike, and he was all for it.
Like all 5-year olds, my son has different types of tears for different situations. There’s the “I’m mad at you because you won’t let me do something/eat something/have something” tears. There’s the “I’m really tired” tears or the “Things aren’t going my way” tears. And of course there’s the “I’m really sorry daddy!” tears. But this crying jog was much different. I could see it in his eyes. He was terrified.
So what do you do as a dad? Of course, my first instinct was to grab him and take him to safety. And I might have done that if there was an easy way down. But as I stared into my little boy’s eyes, I saw his future. I knew there would be times where he would be just as terrified. That first varsity game. His first really, really big test. That first time being on the air or speaking to a large crowd. And I wouldn’t always be there to hold his hand. He would have to man up and do the best job he could.
I took a step on the rope line, just out of reach. I knelt down (as best as one can 25 feet up on a rope) and looked into his eyes. “Jay, I believe in you. I know you can do this. It’s going to be all right.”
“But daddy, I’m so scared.”
“I know you’re scared. But there’s no going back. We have to do this. All we have to do is go over these ropes and we’re done. Look how far you’ve come! You’re almost done.”
“Daddy, I want to go back.”
“You can’t go back Jay. We have to do this. Just take one step on the rope. I’ll be right here. Nothing will happen to you. You can do this.”
“Daddy, no….”
“It’s going to be OK. I believe in you.”
“OK daddy.”
It seemed like 10 minutes, but he finally took that step. Shuffling his feet as carefully as he could, he muttered to himself “almost there…” after every step.
“You can do it buddy. I know you can.”
Slowly but surely, he moved closer to the platform. As his feet touched solid ground, I could see the tension leave his body.
“Jay! You did it!”
“Yeah, I did it!” The tears dried up and a smile came to his face. I gave him a few minutes to let it sink in. Once we got outside and to somewhere I could sit down, I gave him the biggest hug I’ve ever given him. “I am so proud of you son,” I said. Yeah, I choked back a few tears. “You did such a great job up there.”
“Thanks daddy,” he said. Later, on the phone to his grandparents, he recounted his adventure.
“It was so awesome! I can’t wait to do it agan,” he said. “And I wasn’t even scared or anything!”
