Yesterday, I picked up Lucas from daycare, and we made a detour on the drive home. I needed to get my dad a Father’s Day gift, and had decided on an “Old Guys Rule� shirt (non-surfers – this is a surfing thing; my old man was riding waves in Encinitas when there were no wetsuits and a two-lane blacktop connecting the north county to San Diego proper. He’ll dig the shirt. And will most likely remind me of the preceding bit of history. Several times, in fact.), which they sell at Hansen’s Surfboards, just down the street from our place. Normally, I’d opt to remove my left eyeball with a fondue fork over taking the kid shopping after a long day at school, but…the kid, he loves the place.

We walk in and he immediately makes a beeline towards the skateboard section. “DAAAAADEEEE! KATEBOARD! KATEBOARD!� The 19-year-old kid behind the skateboard counter looks a little freaked out, like Lucas is going to run over to that nice brand new $200 Sector 9, drop his pants, and poop on it. Lucas approaches the boards with a rapt expression on his face; he slowly spins the wheels, runs his hand along the griptaped decks, and strikes up a conversation with the saleskid. “Buh-lack kateboard? Buh-lue kateboard? Oh! BIG KATEBOARD! Oh! I kateboard a’ home!� (Yeah, I got him his own skate. He wears a helmet and pads. Honest.) The saleskid flashes me a knowing grin, which I return. Lucas is his father’s son, oh yeah. Lucas then spies the rows of surfboards at the back of the shop – oh! And there’s another guy doing some work on a board! He charges full speed toward the surfboards; the guy working on the board has seen us here a few times before, recognizes Lucas, and gives him a high five. “What doin’?� Lucas asks him. “Building turfboard?� “Yep�, says Surfboard Guy. “Oh!�, says Lucas. “Build daddy turfboard?� “Nope�, I say. “Build Lucas turfboard?�, he asks. “Not yet�, I say. “In a couple of years we’ll build you one.� “Ok�, says Lucas, and wanders among the rows of boards; they tower above him, and again, there’s that reverent look.

It’s a Moment, the kind that sneaks up on you – you expect, of course, to feel that sense of pride, love, and pure connection during the Big Moments, their first smile, their first word, their first step. I get Moments like these on a daily basis, and they’re exhilarating. I watch him run through the surf shop, pausing to look at the posters on the wall, grabbing a baseball cap that’s about ten sizes too big on him, trying to bite into a bar of surf wax (smells great, can’t really blame him), smiling and waving at the blond girl behind the checkout counter, and the awesome fact hits me: this is a living part of me, my flesh and blood, my son, and we’re unique in the world. Genetic validation. Then he’s yelling, snapping me out of my musings.

“DAAAAADEEEEE! I WANT LOOK AT SHOOOOOES! SHOES DADDY!�

Oh, yeah. He’s his mom’s son too.