There was an old show in the 50s.  It was called, “My Three Sons”.  I used to watch it on Nick at Nite.  I am one of 3 boys.  And I am so blessed to have 3 wonderful sons of my own.  Everyday, I am proud and thankful to have such wonderful boys, Noah, Luke and Jack.  They are uniquely wonderful children.

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Marcia and I recently took two of the boys out to lunch, as they are not in school yet.  We went to Nick’s Fish House.  Luke ate his first oyster.  He was so brave; he just slurped it into his mouth.  5 seconds later, it came out, but he was brave for trying.  It was joyous to see the innocence in my boys, as they walked the piers, looked at the boats and the ducks, and enjoyed being with each other and with their mom and dad.

It was a fun day with these two.  A few weeks later, we went to Beach Lax.  Out of all of our kids, Noah was the only one playing, so we all got to go to his games and cheer him on.  He played some of the top teams in the country.  On Saturday, his team scored 7 goals total, and he scored 5 of them.  I was so proud of him, and he really enjoyed being with his friends.

I am enjoying coaching him in lacrosse.  He is fun to watch, and he is so talented.  What I most enjoyed about beach lax though was building a sand castle with Noah.  He and I spent an hour building a sand castle.  It was the most magnificent sand castle I had ever built.  We worked together and we had fun.  I think he was as proud of it as I was.

The pictures above, and my experiences with my boys recently remind me often of my childhood with my two brothers.  There were times when we got along, times when we fought, times when we were angels, and times when we disappointed our parents.

Yesterday, our youngest boys did something that I am pretty disturbed by.  They took 5 fish out of the fish tank and killed them.  I don’t know if they did it on purpose or not, but it was apparently a gruesome scene.  And Marcia laid into them.  I told them this morning as well that I was disappointed.  But that Mom and I believe they are good boys.  And we believe in them.

I recall a time when George was 5 and I was 3.  We thought a good idea to paint the outside of our house blue.  The bricks.  And the trees.  And ourselves.  Boys, did we catch heat for that.  Not just from our parents.  But our parents let the painter take us into the bathroom and yell at us.

I do not want my sons scarred by the fish incident.  I do believe they are good boys.  I don’t believe they understood what they were doing.  They said they were trying to dry the fish off.

I love my boys.  I believe in them.  I love them.  And I always will, no matter what.