The Skillz Report

Preparation

 

(originally written 4/22/15)

 

 

Three weeks ago, there I was, at the park with my daughter Josie.

She played in the sand with a batch of other goofy children, one of whom's mother made a comment so interesting that I was inspired to post about it on Facebook and Twitter. Yes—it caused me to log into two websites. It was just that unexpected.

 

Josie had decided to momentarily break from the sand and blow some bubbles. One of her playmates joined her...but could not open the seal on his bottle. He walked it over to me, and I ripped it off. 

 

The aforementioned mom, sitting at a six-sided bench with myself and a couple other parents, noticed this and declared, "You are the most prepared father I've ever met!"

 

Hmm.

All I did was rip off a ¾-inch seal with my fingers. As I'd later post on Facebook, if this makes me the most prepared dad she's ever met, it's a bit scary how many fingerless men she's coming in contact with.

 

Stemming from a terrible January night in which my lack of preparedness delayed my virginity loss for weeks—you can figure out what I did not have—I try to prepare for any situation, Josie-related or not, that may present itself. 

 

(Within reason, of course. There is no podium on standby in case President Obama drops in wanting to give the State Of The Union from my kitchen.)

 

In both cars I've owned, heavy duty scissors are always present just in case I, or a passenger, get trapped in a seat belt post-wreck. (Credit the old William Shatner show Rescue 911 for that; a segment featuring a girl forced to watch her belt-trapped best friend roast alive—and awake—after a crash stuck with me permanently. But I'm not here to talk about the past.)

 

My glove box is full of first-aid clutter. I carry changes of clothes for myself and Josie wherever we go, as well as toiletries—you never know when/where you may need a shower. I have maps of every Bay Area city readily available. 

 

(Ironically, the situation I'm least prepared for is the one situation I'm always nagging my loved ones to prepare for—nefarious behavior by others. I've always been foolishly overconfident in my mouth, fists and girth. Hopefully, they'll never have to be put to the test. )

 

Good preparation leads to good prevention—as in, prevention of stress, hassle and wasted time. If you know me at all, you know I hate wasting time more than anything, except maybe bums and crossing against the light. If an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure...well, you do the math.

 

Still, life is full of curveballs...and sliders...and changeups...and knuckleballs. Even the occasional gyroball. (Red Sox/Mets enthusiasts will get that last one.) You simply cannot prepare for everything. If this were practical, even possible, people would still be hurt, cars would still crash, natural disasters would still strike and wreak havoc. 

 

It's maddening to read about lawsuits arguing (entity) should have (been prepared for far-out, once-in-a-lifetime possibility—i.e. the Aurora, Colorado movie theater).

But it's even more maddening to read about easily-preventable casualties, even fatalities, that did not have to happen and would NOT have happened had somebody simply planned ahead.

 

There was a story from a couple years ago or so; a kid allergic to nuts went to school and traded his lunch for that of a classmate—which included a peanut butter sandwich. One bite was all it took to debilitate the kid. He soon died because—get this—his parents not only failed to provide the school nurse with epinephrine...but they also never told the school the kid had the allergy at all! Because of this, nobody could figure out what was wrong with him and give proper treatment.

 

So, if you're tallying at home, so far preparation can save: stress, hassle, time and even lives. 

It can also get you lauded for your parenting skillz.

 

In no way am I saying I'm the finest dad to ever grace the earth. After all, some dads can do somersaults with their kids.

 

But for a brief moment at a community park, I was the most-prepared dad some random woman with questionable fashion sense that I'll never see again had ever met.

 

Yeah, that really isn't worth a whole lot. 

But it beats gettin' hit by a gyroball...