When Tyler was a baby dad and Cathryn bought him a carseat. The carseat looks just like all other carseats except for one minor thing--whoever designed the latch thought he was designing a difficult brain riddle. The two pieces that have to fit perfectly before inserting into the buckly are cut like puzzle pieces. Thus, one would conclude that you would stick them together like a puzzle piece. The first time I spent several minutes trying to solve the puzzle before asking the engineer. Problem solved.
Fast forward several years to Arizona. Dad came out to visit and helped me put Jacob into the carseat after church. He tried to solve the riddle and I explained how counterintuitive it is, quickly snapped it and off we went. Well that wasn't good enough for dad. When we got home from church (I remember the Az sun was bright but I don't think it was blazing) dad asked me to show him how to work the carseat latch again. He then spent three hours outside trying to figure out the carseat. Every once in a while I would go out to check on him and show him again how to latch the carseat. Then I would leave him to practice more. It was bittersweet because his tenacity was there and I loved watching his practice but he did end up giving up and coming inside--maybe I finally bribed him with dinner...
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This was also the case with our cousins' fancy new door locks. While we kids were playing in the pool, he and Duane spent a half hour opening and closing their new balcony doors. All the cousins laughed because we knew they were examining and practicing using the new door locks.
ReplyDeleteIn Europe, Dad's assignment was the room key. He took his role very seriously. At each new hotel, I would hand him the key and show him how to unlock the door. He would spend several minutes practicing. When we'd arrive back at the hotel, I'd patiently wait while Dad struggled to use the key properly. He was so determined to open the door and so proud of himself when he got it open. Then he'd let me in the room and practice opening it a few more times with a "There, I got it!" or "That's how it's done!" He'd glance at me with a smile and then back at the door, totally satisfied with his performance and the pride that he's still got it.
When Asher's learning to do something new, I often see Dad's look of puzzlement, determination and finally pride of accomplishmentin him and I miss Dad all over again.