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“One time, there was a huge, huge, huge, big Transformer. His name was Optimus Prime. He was in his big-rig truck form driving down a road when the White Power Ranger (he’s bad) jumped out of the bushes! He used his power on Optimus and flattened his tire. Optimus transformed into his robot form, but was limping because of the damage. The White Power Ranger walked towards Optimus to hurt him some more, when the Red Power Ranger (he’s good) jumped in between them. He beat up the White Power Ranger who ran away crying like a little girl. Optimus Prime went over and thanked the Red Power Ranger and said, “Thank you. If you EVER need ANYTHING, I want you to call me, and I will be there. Here’s my card.” – The story I told my oldest son two nights ago. At the end of this animated bedtime story, when I said “Here’s my card”, I had used my two fingers (index & middle), holding them together and pointing them towards Shade, to imitate the common way that we give each other business cards. I noticed that Shade, in addition to really loving the story, as we continued to go through our bedtime ritual had kind of latched on to that gesture, practicing it while we prayed and talked. He kept flipping his two little fingers from his fist with a flick of his wrist, but didn’t say anything about it, just kept the conversation going as if the rest of him wasn’t aware of what his right hand was doing. He knew I was beginning the “departure” part of our ritual when I got up with the nightly “Okay, buddy…”, and he responded with his regular, “Just one more minute!” Our ritual has two paths here: The path I didn’t take tonight goes on with me saying okay, him responding with “2 more minutes,” and our negotiation from there. The path I did take was with me saying, “Sorry, buddy, I want to but we need to sleep.” Right on queue, he reaches for my neck and either gives me or asks for what we call a “moocharonovich” – a ritual within our ritual (and one that my daughter has picked up on with dad) that consists of a kiss to each cheek, the chin, the nose, the forehead, the mouth and ending with a mutual yell that I can’t spell, but if I could, it would read “mmmpwwwaaaahhhhhhh!” with an added smack of the lips at the “p”. We sometimes get in trouble with mom for how loud this is, and so if it’s late, we whisper the yell when we remember. I stand up at this point, a feat in itself because of Shade’s persistence and my desire to give him what he wants, and we embark on our final routine exchange as I walk to the door, the final two pieces being my reminder to him to “come get me when you wake up” followed by us giving each other a “thumbs up” as I shut the door. But this night, before the thumbs up, the ritual was interrupted with something new. I failed to mention that Shade began a few weeks ago sleeping in his closet. He likes the “camping” feel of it I think, so, with two perfectly good beds in his room (bunks), he usually goes to the fluffy sleeping bag in this double-sliding-door closet. I don’t know how this started, but its kinds cool in there, and I would probably want to sleep in there, too, if it was my room. His full body is usually out of the sleeping bag and leaning full force out of this closet when he proceeds with the day’s seal of finality. I tell you that because as I opened the door to his room preparing for my thumb for our final gesture of love, and I hear the “Hey, dad…” that initiates it, I turn around expecting to see that leaning body and that reaching outstretched arm with the thumb, but instead saw something that effectively broke my final determination to leave. Staying with his body in the sleeping bag, and his head on the pillow, both completely out of my sight, I turn and only see his little arm sticking out the door of the closet. He must’ve assumed I was being faithful to my part in our “evening dance” because without looking, and without a word from me, he proceeds to calmly but firmly say, with a flick of his wrist and flip of his two little fingers, “…Here’s my card.” I started one of those uncontrollable laughing fits that you try to do silently, you know what I’m talking about? Like when you are in the perfect “hide-and-go-seek” hiding places, but you hear the seeker stub his toe really, really badly and you have to laugh, but you CAN’T give away your position? Yeah, that’s what I was doing so as not to lengthen my stay in his room any longer than it has been already. And while I did that in what was becoming obvious, “ritual breaking” silence, Shade didn’t peek to see my response to this adjustment. He just held his arm there with his fingers pointing, evidently holding his imaginary card. My control was lost, and I started rolling in laughter the longer I tried not to, and Shade got his few extra minutes. He is awesome. Underneath it all, I hope that my boy (and my wife and all my kids) always knows that he has my card if he EVER needs ANYTHING. And I also hope that when and if he ever uses it, that I can and will make good on the commitment I feel. One final hope of mine is that all you that read this and make up so much of my life’s joy, also know that if you EVER need ANYTHING, I want to be someone you feel at liberty (and love) to call. So to all of you who have loved me so much and so well, and to those of you who we have yet to engage in that way…Here’s my card. “One time, there was a huge, huge, huge, big Transformer. His name was Optimus Prime. He was in his big-rig truck form driving down a road when the White Power Ranger (he’s bad) jumped out of the bushes! He used his power on Optimus and flattened his tire. 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