Common Sense

"Well, I've got the most common sense," our 12-year-10-month-
and-21-day-old son snorted. "At school, we learned between the ages of 13 and 21 people lose their common sense. That means (14-year-old) Isaac's got none. And Noah – pppff! – He may be eight but..." Aaron rolled his eyes trying to "one up" his brothers.

"If that's the case, you've got a month before yours goes too," I countered. "Now keep it down. Dad's trying to drive."

For the past 15 minutes, our wily sons had been teasing and poking each other in the backseat of the truck. The behavior began weeks ago with rotten weather and sickness keeping us cooped up in the house.

Dan and I decided to combat this restlessness by packing up the family for a winter outing.

I stuffed a couple shopping bags with hot dogs, brats, buns, chips, apples, oranges, marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate chips, water bottles, paper plates and napkins.

Dan threw in the ax, a shovel, kindling, newspapers and matches. The idea was to hold an evening meal over a campfire at our pond place.

We pulled up to the property,
parked on the roadside,
carried our supplies
over the frozen snow
and set up camp
in an opening
overlooking the lake.



Dan split
a few logs
and started
the fire.



The
boys
followed
suit




putting
their

pent-up
energy



to

productive

use







before

wandering

off




to


e
x
p
l
o
r
e






the

t
r
a
i
l
s






and
other

icy
wonders.





Today
was

the
official
start

of

Daylight's
Saving's
Time.





Dusk



would
last



past
7 PM.




We
sought
signs

of

pond
life:




tracks

in
the

snow

and channels of thin ice around the beaver lodge.

Noah's curiosity drew him closer. I warned: "Stay back! Open water is NOT safe."

I explained how the beaver's swimming motion keeps the ice thin so they can surface. I pointed to the heavy foot-and-tail prints.

Isaac loped up to another channel closer to the shore. "Get back!" I warned wondering no more about his lack of common sense. He stomped his shoe (No boots!) to assure me that all was solid.

Then he inserted a long stick, measured the depth to the murky bottom and pointed to the level at chest height. I heard a crackling underfoot, moved back and said: "You hear that? Clear out."

"I didn't hear anything," Isaac said as we headed back to the campfire. We saw Aaron wandering along the far shore. I puttered through the wooded trail and cringed upon hearing Mr. Common Sense holler: "That's freaking cold Mr. Biglesworth!"



Back at the fire,

our avid fisherman

showed his

barehanded catch...


...and

bared his feet
to warm them
by the fire.

"You know when there's water, I HAVE to fish!" Aaron said. "I fell in, but it was WORTH it."

Imitating British adventurer Bear Grylls, Aaron explained,"I saw minnows in the open water, bent down and scooped them out onto the land."

"They're protein!" he said poking a stick into one and casting it over the fire to roast. Dan roasted the soaked socks – plunging sticks into the snow and hanging them near the flame along with Aaron's boots turned upside down to dry.

Meanwhile I attempted to roast supper – poking a couple brats onto the campfire fork. Dan did the buns.

Halfway through the meal, Aaron complained about his wet pants and sweatshirt. I asked, "You mean you fell all the way in?"

"Yeah. After I got the minnows, the ice cracked and I hit bottom right away," he said. "I tried jumping up on the other side, but it broke too. So I got out where I went through."

"How deep was it?" I asked. He said, "Chest deep."

I heaved, "Just like Isaac showed us with the stick."

To Isaac, I said, "You see! I did hear the ice crack."

"I saw it," Aaron said.

"Then where's your common sense?" I sighed.

"You know – your ability to resist impulsive-
ness?

I'd say: it's gone already!"

And so were we – on our way home – wondering about our parental Common Sense.