Life in the Fast Lane
Don’t procrastinate – hop to it while you still can
It’s been three years – maybe four or more – since my son first expressed an interest in joining the legion of annoying children zipping around town on equally annoying shoes with pop-out wheels.
At the time, I hesitated, quickly envisioning a few likely scenarios: my child crashing into displays in grocery store aisles … knocking over elderly people on walkers … and swerving through a wide array of moving vehicles. That hesitation led, of course, to procrastination.
So, what did I decide to get him on his 11th birthday this year? Yep, those so-called Heelys. Don’t ask me what possessed me to take the leap. Maybe I figured he would be a bit more responsible. Perhaps I thought about his quickly disappearing childhood years.
The problem with granting this particular birthday wish is that my son has grown to near adult stature since he first drooled at the sight of a pair of Heelys. Whenever he walks through the door, I’m startled all over again that he’s practically looking me straight in the eye. And no one has ever called me short.
In proportion to his tall lanky body, he possesses a pair of feet that fit comfortably in a men’s size 9.
Imagine trying to find an annoying youth shoe in a sensible adult size. But, thanks to the marvel that is the Internet, I was able to hunt down the right size after a 11⁄2-hour search.
As expected, the Heelys were a hit at Andrew’s birthday celebration, with him expressing genuine disbelief that I actually found a pair in his size.
I know what you’re probably thinking at this point: Shari plans to share a little tale about how we should treasure the precious moments we have with our kids … because they are growing ever so quickly.
Well, you would be right. Sort of.
The whole Andrew-in-Men’s-Size-9-Heelys (make sure you stay out of his path in the aisles at Lowe’s) reminded me of a little gem I discovered in an otherwise nondescript novel recently.
A grandmotherly character urged her busy adult son to fill a jar with marbles – representing the number of Saturdays he had left with his children before they were officially adults. On every weekend, he was to pull one marble out of the jar – leaving him with an idea of how many Saturdays were left.
Something about that visual hit me. We’ve all heard those old clichés and adages – time flies, treasure every moment, slow down, stop and smell the roses – so many times our eyes likely glaze over whenever one is mentioned.
But a diminishing jar of marbles actually can make you stop and take notice. At this point, Andrew’s jar would contain 364 marbles. His little sister, Alena, would have about 520 marbles in her jar.
Not a whole lot of marbles when you really think about it.
I’m thinking … just maybe … I need to get a pair of those adult-sized Heelys and join my kids in a few store aisles.
Look out.
I can’t afford to procrastinate.
