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Looking for Precious Moments Collectibles? Ebay has a huge selection! Visit today to see what's for sale! Main Page Site Index Getting Pregnant Pregnancy Parenting Pregnancy and Parenting Journals Fertility Nutrition Pregnant Moms Morning Sickness Women's Health Child Health	Precious Moments by Kenneth A Cubbin Most memorable events in life begin without cognizance of their significance; this was no exception. My wife, unusually tired from organizing our upcoming move to North Carolina, badly needed a late afternoon nap. I too was tired, however, one of us had to amuse and care for our three-year old son and being the chivalrous husband that I am, I volunteered for that duty. So it was, that at four o'clock one seemingly uneventful day, my son and I left the house with the sole purpose of staying out of the way so mom could nap. We live in Las Vegas, in a housing development that encircles several man-made lakes. The lakes are regularly stocked with fish -- so angling was an option - however, being tired, I didn't feel like dealing with the mechanics of assembling rods, lines, bait, etc. So my son and I ambled up to the lake hand-in-hand with no activity planned. In the 90s, one is so often consumed with some sort of interaction with technology of one variety or another, that when it comes to filling in time without such stimuli, one feels at a loss. My son and I stood at the lake's edge and stared at the water; nothing occurred to me as to what we could do to amuse ourselves. It was a warm autumn afternoon. I felt a mixture of emotions: sadness that I couldn't remember how to use my imagination, impatience at the slow passage of time, annoyance at not being able to use my time more constructively and embarrassment for not relishing the time together that my son and I had been awarded through default. My guilt was particularly amplified because I travel a lot with my job and am away from home a great deal. Had I lost the ability to interact with my family? Zack noticed some buds on a Crepe Myrtle that was growing nearby. He picked one off and handed it to me. 'Look daddy,' he said. 'It's broken.' I looked at the misshapen bud in my hand; it had indeed broken open and shed its seed. 'Yes, it is broken. But look on the bush, there are others that are green, some that are brown and even more that are almost black.' I was just about to explain the whole cycle of seed to mature bush when Zack turned to the lake and threw the contents of his hand into the water. The broken seed pods arced through the air and landed with little disturbance to the lake's tranquillity. Beneath the Crepe Myrtle bush were small stones covered with fallen leaves. I picked up a handful of pebbles and held them in my hand for him to see. As I pushed them around the palm of my hand with my finger, Zack and I reveled in the myriad of colors that emanated from the desert stones. We counted pinks, browns, oranges, yellows, and a color so nondescript that we settled on purple. I lobbed one of the pebbles into the air and it landed in the water with a plop; small ripples radiated away from where the stone had landed. We both watched as though spellbound. 'Look at the way the waves from that small rock run all the way to the shore son,' Zack dutifully watched, threw one of his pebbles into the water and noticed the water ripples. 'It's like a volcano!' he exclaimed. Thanks to The Learning Channel, Zack had witnessed the magnificent fury of volcanic action, both on the land and in the sea. He had marveled at computer animated tidal waves shown emanating from undersea volcano eruptions and had sat glued to the television as he viewed actual footage of Mount St. Helens exploding in a shower of earth and gas. As a consequence, almost every feat of nature that Zack had witnessed lately, he described as being like a volcano. I smiled and nodded my agreement with his observation. In the distance, at the other side of the lake, ducks quacked as they noticed we were throwing objects into the water. They swam rapidly to our location in the vain hope that we might have tasty morsels on which they could feed. Several dived after pebbles that Zack threw in their vicinity, only to rise to the surface moments later looking confused and disappointed. Still they stayed with us as Zack and I made our way around the perimeter of the lake to the floating pier. With little encouragement, Zack tiptoed on each of the rocks that defined the water's edge; holding my hand so not to fall, he confidently stepped from one to another until we had reached the pier. Gingerly -- for the pier was floating and each step made one fear that it was not tethered -- he and I walked to the very end of the pier and sat down. For a minute or two we swayed our bodies to-and-fro; the pier rocked back and forth in sympathy. A foot or so beneath the surface of the water, a school of baby fish swam lazily as they absorbed the warmth from the sun. I couldn't quite reach the water, so I instructed Zack to lie on his stomach. Each of us, prone on the edge of the pier, dangled our hands into the water. To my surprise, the fish swam to our hands and touched our skin with gentle kisses. Zack did not pull his hand away, but held it for the fish to explore. As they swam around our fingers, sunlight would occasionally catch in their scales and reflect a flash of gold and silver. 'Catch one daddy' Zack whispered. Like all three-year olds, he apparently thought that there was nothing that his daddy could not accomplish. 'Okay, let's try,' I waited until one particularly adventurous fish swam near the palm of my hand. Quickly I clasped my fingers and snatched my hand from the water. All I succeeded in doing was splashing Zack's and my faces. Zack giggled and splashed me back. Soon we were splashing each other with reckless abandon. Our friends the ducks, curious as to what we had found so fascinating in the water, vocalized their presence. Zack tried to splash a Mallard and nearly slipped into the lake. It was time for us to leave the pier as I feared that an accidental fall into the lake would be hard to explain to his mother. Brenda, Zack's mom and my wife of ten years, would find no humor in such an occurrence. We had waited so long for his appearance in our lives that his preciousness often manifested itself in our being over-protective of him. Still, a fall in the lake by any standards could be dangerous, so we ventured back to the shore. Other than cacti and other native desert plants, nothing grows in Las Vegas without being routinely irrigated and fertilized. Underground systems, automatically timed to water the common ground lawn and trees, had been copiously doing their job for several minutes when Zack and I alit from the pier. In the gutter at the edge of the road, a small rivulet of water grew, fed by the runoff from the lawn. Childhood memories flooded back. 'Hey Zack,' I said excitedly. 'Let's go over and get some of those fall leaves from under the Crepe Myrtle tree and I'll show you a game that daddy used to play when he was a little boy.' Ever curious, Zack complied with my request and soon we were each dropping several leaves into the gutter's torrent. 'Let's see which one will win the race!' I said as we crabbed our way down the sidewalk watching our champions. The leaf with the maroon and amber markings and slightly curved edges forged to the lead. A larger, brown leaf with clearly defined ribs slowed and became stuck on a small stone. Contending first place, a green leaf with yellow highlights nudged the leader impatiently. Zack's favorite was the latter for he had chosen the leaf and placed it in the water himself. 'My one is winning!' he exclaimed in glee as though a large silver cup lay waiting in the club room for his reward. At the corner, each of the leaves was washed down a storm water drain, but Zack's had indeed rallied and beat the others. 'You are the winner!' I cried as I patted his back with pride. Zack beamed. 'Can we do it again daddy?' 'You bet! Maybe next time mine will win.' We raced our leaves many more times; alas, I only won one or two. As Zack and I watched the last of our makeshift boats drift down the storm water channel, we both became aware of the fading light. I glanced at my watch. Two hours had elapsed! I couldn't believe that time had gone so fast. 'We better go home and wake mommy up or she'll sleep all day!' I said as I took Zack's hand. Zack hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to insist on another leaf race, and then agreed that we should go home. I suspect that his stomach had told him mom had better get up soon or he would go hungry. As we left the lake and walked back to our house, Zack glanced over his shoulder. Over the mountains, the sinking sun painted the clouds with various shades of pink, rimmed by gold. It seemed as though God was smiling down on us. 'Can we do that again tomorrow daddy…please?' Zack was still learning the nuances of manners. However, the one thing he had absorbed well was that using the word please added weight to the probability of his request being granted. I looked down upon his angelic face. 'Of course we can son,' I answered. The word, son, echoed in my mind. There was my son, standing by my side; my flesh, my blood. I could see in him my eyes and my wife's cute upturned nose; but his personality was distinctly his own. He was a continuance of my wife and me; evidence of our love and God's grace upon us. All at once, I was overcome with the urge to hold him close to my heart. I swept him into my arms and held him tightly as though someone were threatening to take him from me. He did not complain, but laid his head on my shoulder and hugged my neck. An embrace that conveyed mutual love and thanks for an experience we had both enjoyed. It was a moment I will cherish forever. Shakespeare once advised us that while passing through life, we should occasionally stop and smell the roses. In the fast-paced life we draft for ourselves today, all too often we fail to heed his advice. I had left the house with Zack on a whim. My primary goal had been to give his mother peace so she could nap. What I had achieved was a connection with my son that I could have easily missed. We had enjoyed everything and nothing; just being together, passing time and reveling in nature. Perhaps God steered me in this direction so that I might not forget the gift that He had bestowed upon me. I raised my teary eyes to the sky and silently mouthed the words, 'Thank you.' Having a child to raise is an awesome responsibility and too often we neglect the one thing that our child needs most from us; our undivided attention. I am so grateful for the precious moments I spent with Zack on that afternoon at the lake; the experience was an awakening for me. Since that time, he and I regularly venture out on adventures together. We take little more than a beverage to quench our thirst for we have everything within our hearts to pass the time and enjoy each others' company. I recommend that you seek to spend some precious moments with your child before the opportunity is lost. Don't waste the gift that God has bestowed upon you by proffering the excuse of not having time. You see, time is our most precious gift to give. A Little About Kenneth I am an Australian, living in North Carolina, working full time as a flight engineer with a major foreign airline, freelance author,studying via distance education for my MBA. I have an undergraduate degree in Aviation Technology and a Diploma in Electrical Engineering. Most of my writing experience is in the technical field, however, I have written a romantic novel about a couple who fall in love at first sight and then move heaven and earth to be together. They find that heaven and earth are not moved without repercussions. I am available for writing assignments and will consider consulting in any field.