Like a rolling stone

What Steven Spielberg tried to teach us about raising teenagers...and we didn't notice.

Remember that scene in Indiana Jones when a giant boulder is about to flatten him?  A movie classic!  It strikes me interacting with my teenage daughter lately that the movie, the scene, the boulder are metaphor. As in, we parents are all Indiana Jones and that boulder is the looming end of their childhood.  It can’t be stopped. 

And besides the boulder, let’s not forget our hero also dealt with trick arrows, poison darts, collapsing walls, and belligerent tribal warriors.  These too are the symbolic obstacles we encounter, those critical moments we are utterly unprepared for, those moments when our reactions will make all the difference in this adventure of life. You just do your best to avoid calamity. 

Case in point, last Saturday.  Now understand that my daughter is in 9^th grade.  She is 14.  She thinks she is 18.  I think she is 10.  She is probably more right than I am.  But on Saturday our tribal queen (my wife), with all the finesse of a sledgehammer, with no consideration of the permanent scars it would leave on me, with not a hint of tenderness, announced, “She’s going to the Homecoming dance tonight...” 

Deep breath. OK, I can handle that.  We’re talking girls on one side of the gym, boys on the other side of the gym, right?  Punch bowl and chips in the middle.  Strobe light, DJ.  All good. 

Then she threw the haymaker, “…with a BOY.” 

No.  No.  No.  Wait, what?  No.

Now please understand, friends, I have absolutely nothing against boys.  In fact, I am one.  And I’m raising four more.  They are beautifully simple creatures.  I’m pro-boy.  It’s just that this is MY daughter. And tonight her dress is too short.  And the boy is 14 and, and, and…She’s still just a kid!

There I stood, riddled with poison darts.

But heroes rise to a challenge. So I stood up tall, bravely put my arm around her, and muttered something preachy and unconvincing. And out the door she went.

Hours later.

Me: How was the dance?

Daughter: Pretty boring actually. 

Me (to myself): Perfect!  We dodged that deadly arrow!

Daughter: But my friends and I went to a party afterwards with all the boys and it was AWESOME!

Crunch. Turns out the metaphor has limits.  Indiana Jones always managed to avoid ruin.  While I, once again, was pancaked by the boulder.