Are You Sure This is Safe?

As the doctor diagnosed my nine-year-old son Bennett with a simple stomach bug and also some kind of viral skin bump that multiplies when you try to squeeze it, my wife, Karen, decided to maximize our co-pay and ask about the small grey dot—about the size of a pencil prick to be more precise—on our son’s forehead between his eyes, and for the doctor’s estimation on how long it would remain. It had been there since his older brother Carter decided to start his own personal military about a year ago, conscripting his two younger brothers.

"Oh…" the pediatrician told her casually, "It’ll be there a long time."

"Ten years?" asked Bennett, who was following every word.

"Longer," he replied.

"Twenty?" the warrior asked.

"At least."

Mom felt duty-bound to explain. In early 2009, Carter—then 10—had required that his recruits undergo tests and drills. Tests like knowing which gear would be used in different emergencies and in various terrains, such as the desert or the city. Granted, some of the questions were basic: "When skydiving from a plane, would you choose a water bottle or a parachute?" But then, when you’re a General in need of an army, you can’t be too selective.

And then there were the drills, one of which caused the 20-year+ tattoo between Bennett’s eyes. The idea was that in the military, one must dodge bullets. Sometimes, one has to do this with such aplomb that it approximates "Matrix"-style dexterity. The most ready-made missiles in any kid’s school supplies, of course, are pencils. So Carter set out with a 16-pack of colored pencils. Bennett, standing about six feet away, steadied himself while Carter prepared to hurl the pencils like throwing knives at Bennett’s face.

Bennett questioned the General. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"Sure."

"OK."

Carter says the missile struck Bennett between the eyes after five missiles (though Bennett insists he outlasted eight). Had he made it past all required 16, Bennett would have ranked up from PV2 to Private First Class. Instead, he deserted and went to discuss the matter with the Commander-in-Chief. The president, wise as she is, found a way to gain consensus by convincing the General to promote Bennett up to Lieutenant and provide him with canteen coupons allowing him to raid the pantry. (The president also served as quartermaster, and in this capacity had leeway to provide this privilege in extraordinary circumstances.) Carter’s military was subsumed into a theocracy upon my opening the front door, and he lost interest.

Karen relates the genesis of the grey dot on Bennett’s forehead to the pediatrician, a veteran of forty years and medic in many internecine conflagrations.

The doctor says, "That sounds about right."

Image by Claire Burge. Used with permission. This article is a reprint of a post by Howard Freeman.