The Parental Pendulum of Emotions

I imagine it was like a scene out of the 1972 thriller classic, "Deliverance."  Venturing into the unknown and potentially dangerous, surrounded by woods, rifle-toting people who appear to be one card short of a full deck...but thankfully no one ordered anyone to "squeal like a pig."  


At the exact moment the Domino's delivery girl rounds the corner of the house with our pizzas in hand, Cole plunks down the young chipmunk he's been carrying upside down by its tail and begins stroking it with his right hand while holding onto a BB gun with his left. The right side of the chipmunk's head is bloody and mangled.  He's pawing at the table, trying to get away (imagine that!).  The gun is propped prominently against the small table but Cole still felt the need to keep one hand on it at all times.  Just in case.  It's a beautiful white wrought iron table that once belonged to my sister, who has graciously loaned it to Katie.  It's the perfect size for little girl tea parties, and has three matching white wrought iron chairs.  However, the bloody chipmunk splayed across the top of it is offensive and out-of-place.  Of course, I would venture that a bloody chipmunk is going to be offensive anywhere but I digress.  


I suppose Dan and I will eternally disagree on this, so with all due respect, from my perspective, I would say the whole right side of the poor thing's face was blown off. Dan, however, would say the BB just "penetrated his fur." In support of my position, I argue, when your head is the size of a walnut, a BB fired at almost point-blank range can inflict significant and even fatal injuries!  


Regardless, the chipmunk was desperately trying to escape, scampering all over that table. I sincerely doubt he had vision in his right eye to see where he was going. Actually, I doubt he even had his right eye at all for that matter. But Cole kept him in place, stroking his back in a very gentle and remorseful way.  


The poor delivery girl. She just stood there, mouth agape, pizzas in hand. When I finally remembered she was still there, I ran inside to grab some cash to pay her. I am certain she was grateful to get out of here, and can only imagine her coworkers' astonishment when she surely relayed her experiences.  I fervently tried to convince Dan or Jack to finish off the chipmunk.  Since Dan had shoulder surgery last week on his right side, he, of course, could not pull a trigger on a BB or any other gun. I am not sure what I thought he could do but I felt like the chipmunk was suffering and it wasn't fair.  


Dan insisted he would live, and in the end, Jack deposited him at the edge of the woods. It absolutely tore me up inside to put the little creature down on the ground knowing he was hurting, and making him fair game for who-knows-how-many-predators, so I feel quite certain karma will come back and bite us on the butt on this one.  I mean, really! No chipmunk deserves to run around the great outdoors half-blind and traumatized!  Somehow I should have found it inside me to finish him off! But with what?!? I could never pull the trigger on a gun - even a BB gun - on an animal. And I sure as Hell wasn't going to throw him against the side of the stone wall of the house bashing his skull in.  It was quite the moral dilemma.  After I quit sobbing, and retching, I talked with Cole about not hurting animals, and how if we have to kill an animal if the animal is attacking, or when hunting, it should be killed quickly so it doesn't suffer. We talked about how the chipmunk didn't deserve to be hurt, how he is hurting and there is no one to ease his pain.  I was pretty dramatic, and it was quite effective on Cole. Of course, I wasn't trying to be dramatic, but that's just the way it came out. Cole's initial response was that he "thought it was a squirrel or a rat." Immediately I responded that even so, the same theory applies.  Unless the squirrel or rat was attacking, it didn't deserve to be hurt like that.  It seemed to resonate with him, and he seemed truly reticent.  My tears always bother him, and he knew he shouldn't have done it. A tough lesson. We finally moved on to other activities, until Dan found the beheaded fox pup under the kitchen window...talk about a downer!  We are blaming the neighbor's cat. 


Thankfully the neighbor removed the....remains...and finally I thought things would calm down. However, it wasn't 45 minutes before Dan was yelling for me.  Having been together for almost 18 years (YIKES!!!), without thinking I knew his tone.  It was an emergency.  


I flew down the stairs, and met Cole at the front door. His mouth was bloody, and one of his front teeth was at an-almost 90 degree angle.  Apparently, Cole and his daddy were wrestling and somehow Cole managed to whack himself in the face dislodging one of his teeth.  I am no dentist, but it was very clear that tooth had to come out.  It should be no surprise that Cole was excited at this idea.  


I took a Kleenex and pulled at the tooth. I was truly stunned to feel resistance. It was bleeding profusely, but was still intact at the root.  Cole didn't appear to register any pain or fear, and so I grabbed a new Kleenex and asked him if I could try again.  Of course he said yes.  This time I pulled hard, and it snapped loose.  


Cole and I stared at each other for several seconds.  In that moment I fell in love with him all over again.  I was flooded with emotions I had not felt for him - or anyone honestly - in a long time.  It was a connection like only a mother and child could feel.  We locked eyes, and I know even though he could never verbalize it, he felt it too.  Cole and I alone shared this special moment, and no one could barge in or take it away from us.  


I felt like I had hurt my baby, though his face did not register even a scintilla of discomfort.  I also realized that he was my last, my youngest, and now we could never go back (as if we could ever do so).  This would be the last time I one of my babies would lose a 'first' tooth.  I did not expect this deluge of emotions, and I took it very hard.  Cole finally broke the silence, and said quite plainly, 


"I can't believe it."


After a second I said, "I can't either."


And I couldn't.  I really couldn't.  


Cole ran off, perfect white tooth in hand, to show Dad and Jack and Katie, while I collapsed on the kitchen floor. I could not contain myself.  I cried until I was empty, and then cried some more.  Dan told him to hug his momma, but Cole didn't need the prompting.  He hugged me and told me he loved me many times, and I just could not get enough of him.  My baby was growing up.