My own son Zane has begun to question me. Eight years ago, he asked me if I was faster than God, but last week, as I was making meatloaf, Zane was sitting at the kitchen table. While crushing breadcrumbs, I told him that he needed to do his Social Studies homework before he played on the IPad.
He muttered, "Thanks a lot, faggot." And looked up to see my reaction.
I knew enough not to flinch. So I pointed to the California lilac outside our window and said, "Look at that bumblebee. Engineers have proven that a bee has too much mass to generate lift. In other words, it can't hover."
Zane's brows drew together, "I don't get it."
I gave him my serious look. "That bee flies because no one told him he couldn't. This family is like that bee. We fly, despite these two queens, two at-risk boys and four rescue dogs making an impossible combination. We soar because we love one another. We don't let anyone tell us we cannot fly. Not even a Fisher-Paulson."
I'm not sure if I did the right thing the first time that Zane found flaw with me, but I do know that my job, just like Nurse Vivian's, was to continue loving my sons, whether or not there ever was a Polka Derry Long.
With a Perspective, this is Kevin Fisher-Paulson.
Kevin Fisher-Paulson is a captain with the San Francisco Sheriffs' Department and the father of two adopted boys.