Since the space shuttle counted down and lifted off into the clear blue sky last August, my son Mike has been fascinated with all things space -- from rockets to satellites to the planets and their many moons. We watch rocket and shuttle launches on YouTube. We read book after book on space. We bought out all of the space toys at the local toy store. We've hung glow-in-the-dark planets and stars in the shape of constellations on his ceilings and walls. We watch videos on space from the library. We've even ordered an astronaut Halloween costume -- complete with a helmet on which he can hear "mission control."
If you have or ever had a three year-old, you know all too well just how much they can beat a dead horse. Not only do most of Mike's play activities now revolve around space shuttles and pretending he is an astronaut, but he also spends a lot of his day pontificating about space. "Which do you like better Mom? Mars or Jupiter?" he'll ask and then wait on baited breath for an answer. "Mom, do you think that stars are cooler than the moon?" "Mom -- guess how many moons Jupiter has!? You won't believe it!"
Whenever Mike begins to quiz me on space, I have to fight back the urge to say, "I don't know and I don't care." Because I have always found NASA, the planets and stars, orbiting monkeys, black holes -- in fact the whole space thing -- about as interesting as watching a tennis match on TV. In fact, until Mike's fascination with space began, I don't think I could have told you how many planets were in our galaxy (galaxies being a topic I'm still a little foggy on) -- let alone their names or the order in which they appear as they rotate the sun. And O.K., so maybe it's slightly interesting that one of Mars' moons (and who knew you could have more than one moon anyway?) resembles a lumpy potato, but what it comes down to is that the whole topic of space just doesn't get my engines (or rocket boosters) ignited.
Fortunatley, Mike does have a partner in his space fascination -- his dad. For years, whenever I walked into the room and Brent was watching some Discovery channel show on space, I would beg him to turn the channel to some quality programming like
Dr. 90210 or
The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Now I am outnumbered and space reins supreme in our house. The two of them sit together and conduct space experiments, look at the stars and planets together at night, and marvel at my complete lack of knowledge of and interest in space.
Part of me is very happy that Mike and his dad have something to share together -- a common interest that brings them closer. And God knows I am delighted that I do not have to be the one to read book after book on Mars and Jupiter.
But, for the first time in Mike's life, I feel a little left out. Yes, it was hard to get as jazzed as Mike about construction trucks and fire trucks, but Brent felt the same way I did. As a family, we have spent more than our fair share of time cruising local construction sites and taking tours of various fire stations, but these were things that Brent and I endured together -- because they made Mike happy. Now, Mike has someone who actually enjoys reading "Earth and Sky" for the 150th time instead of two parents who say, "We're going to read something other than a fire truck book tonight."
The hardest part of this isn't listening to Mike prattle on and on about the solar system (though that's not easy). It's that, also for the first time, Mike prefers his dad over me. Not for everything and not all of the time; in fact, it's mostly just space-related. But for the last three-and-a-half years, I was the sun and all of Mike's attention, thoughts, and excitement orbited around me. For Mike, Brent was like the lumpy potato moon of Mars -- kind of interesting, kind of fun -- but not exactly what he needed to keep his planet going. And I got used to that.
I know that space is just the beginning -- a new frontier to adopt a cliche. There are going to be many things, because of interest or because it's a "guy thing," that Mike (and Peter) will only want their dad in on. And there will probably be lots of things, like backcountry camping for one, that I will only want their dad in on too. Margaret Mead wrote in 1969 that space exploration presented a turning point in human history. Quite frankly, I'm a little skeptical about that. But space exploration has definitely presented a turning point in our house.
As I watched Mike and his dad read "The Universe: A Definitive Guide" (just what every 3 year-old needs) after lunch today, I couldn't help but feel a little pang -- not of jealousy, not of sadness -- but a pang of recognition that Mike is becoming more and more his own person with his very own likes and dislikes, most of which do not match my own. Which leaves me wondering: When will we be able to compare notes on the latest Calvin Trillin essay that has appeared in "The New Yorker?" When will this happen?
Or will Astronaut Mike, as he now introduces himself, grow up to build the next generation of space exploration tools? Will he have passions and jobs and interests that I can't even begin to comprehend?
The other day, as I listened to Mike talk himself to sleep, I heard him start a countdown. "T minus eight, seven, six, main engine start, main engines started, two, one booster ignition! LIFTOFF!" he practically screeched with joy and excitement. "Space Shuttle Discovery is now paving the way for future missions and beyond!"
And maybe that's what space is doing at our house now -- paving the way for the long road ahead.
