Cues

As a parent, you learn the subtle cues when your children have either bitten off more than they can chew or think they have. My son's cue is “Dad, do you really think I'm ready for this?”

He asked me that question the night before we were to leave on the scouting trip. My answer was, “Of course you are, bud. You'll be able to handle everything.” What I was thinking was, “Of course you are, bud. I, on the other hand, am not. There's not going to be any beer, TV or anything resembling a bed for almost a week.”

The other day, he asked me the same question. We were sitting on the plastic chairs outside the dive shop at Cane Bay. I could tell by the tone of his voice, this was a serious one. Over the past month, we'd gone through the online training for open water scuba certification together. He could have easily done it himself, but I wanted to make sure I still knew the rules. (He is a stickler for the rules. The last thing I wanted was for him to grab my regulator halfway through a dive and kick me out of the water for a time out when I went too deep, or missed a proper surface interval. So, every night after work, we'd go over a couple of sections. (Do you have any idea how annoying it is when your son scores better on the tests than you do? Luckily, I didn't have to say my answers.))

We'd also done several practice sessions in the pool at home. He'd SNUBAed and was great at snorkeling, so, I was sure he'd have no problem. It was pretty hilarious seeing him in my wife's BCD (That's the thing they attach the tank to. When you're ten and trying to figure things out with an adult sized tank and adult equipment, the stakes are stacked against you pretty high. It's a good thing laughter doesn't travel well under water.)

When we got to St Croix, he had to do his pool sessions then four open water dives with an instructor before he would be certified and could dive on his own with a buddy. I made the reservations at the dive shop and got him there on time. My wife and daughter went to play in the sand while I stayed to make sure he was comfortable. He had to do a quick knowledge check (which he aced. Yes I was very proud of him). Then he had to put his equipment together. That was supposed to be the end of the first day. Since we were on vacation, a slow start was good. That's when the instructor told me my son was going to do his first open water dive.

Now, since the instructor had never seen my son in the pool and probably didn't remember him from last year, I was a little surprised. But not as surprised as my son. Hence our sitting in the plastic chairs outside the dive shop.

“Dad... Do you really think I'm ready for this?”

We shared a look for a minute. “Yep, bud, you are.”

“Are you sure?” This was definitely a “I've bitten off more than I can chew” moment.

“What are our rules for diving?” We'd come up with our own, and both had to agree before we would start a dive.

“Calm, confident and safe.”

“Do you think you can do this?”

A slight nod of his head.

Will I let you get hurt?

A slight shake of his head.

That just left calm. “You can do all the skills, Bud. I've seen you do them in the pool. You know all the rules, you've passed all the tests. Yes, you're ready for this. Do you think you are?”

There was a pause as he thought... “Yes, Dad. Are you going with us?”

“Yes. I'll get my stuff right now.”

The three of us made our way down to the ocean. (Actually, my son made his way. I limped under the 50 pounds of gear and whimpered because I was barefoot and forgot that the tropical sun and cement combine to create what's known as nuclear fusion heat. The instructor was better off, but he was “helping” my son walk with all his scuba gear on. This was quite a feat since the gear probably weighed more than my son.) After a few minutes of practicing key skills, we all headed out.

For the next 30 minutes, I saw my son do his first scuba dive. He was calm and confident. He did everything he was supposed to and made it look easy.

“Dad, do you think I'm ready for this?”

"Yes, you are, but damn it, I'm not.”