We knew we were outnumbered, but as highly trained professionals, we have maintained an upper hand throughout the parenting battle. This evening drew late, dark and eerie. A new purpose will test the stamina of “troop” readiness.
With the leaders wounded and down, private first class Jayson took root outside his commander’s tent. Concerned, and working on very little rations, he proceeded to their bedside. Moaning and disoriented the troop leaders mustered very few words, and simply rolled in agony. PFC Jayson was equally disoriented, yet determined. He thought perilously about the decision to move, heading closer to piercing enemy territory in hopes of a late night treasure.
His mission grew more and more determined. The groans from his stomach were deafening, causing a sense of urgency well beyond this young soldier’s control. He disregarded the officer’s plea for rest and pressed for assistance on the mission. The officer’s were down. In one final roust, before fading into a coma they barked to PFC Jayson, “Be a brave little soldier, we’re done … done for the night! This is our claim this is our right.”
PFC Jason was left to his own devices. Never venturing outside camp before dawn or after dark, he would need a new level of courage to conquer tonight’s battle. Not an ordinary battle … this would test a soldiers fortitude. A mere two clicks on the lower perimeter of camp was his target. There are no back-ups, no flanking troops, no lights, and worst of all, no commanders. There would be necessary moves to maintain a stealth position and not fall victim to the enemies lurking below.
Fresh out of boot camp, young PFC Jayson took on the challenge. To say it was quiet was more than a lie … the small, docile soldier would certainly try. He will have to skittle by skoots, loots, trens, and tracks … four legged stimbles, and that one-legged bat … arebu’s, denkles, wabbles and bows, toothless fingles, and three legged crows … the noises, the shouts, the deafening flur, these creatures are scary … scary for sure!
With a long solid gulp and tip of his hat, PFC Jayson made a mad capped dash. He grabbed a quick light, shone it fast on the floor, made a dash for the stairs, under that deafening roar. The girggles, the tweets, the fipping and fled, bothered the boy, but no tears were shed, “I’m five, yes I am … mom and dad said I’m brave, they said it once and would say it again.
PFC took a deep breath and jogged down those stairs past the lurking feegles, donkies, and bears. He remembered the grapes, the grapes that he loves. They’ll fill that grumbling tummy and he’ll scare those darn scares. Down did he jog, as his commander’s kept an ear...never letting their soldier fall victim to fear. Thump, thump, thump, thump thump thump, as his feet made the dash no whimpers or whines, he beat all the traps.
The end’s in site … that fridge and those grapes no mom, no dad, no sharks no snakes. He opened it up, opened it wide peered with a smile and looked deep inside. He gobbled those grapes, the ones that he loves, he giggled and smiled as we watched from above. It was late in the night when this kid conquered fear so sweet and gentle, it brought down a tear.
lt shamon.
(With spatterings of influence from D. Suess)
