Moments of Panic

Today we are helping our 17-year-old son pack and prepare for his first solo trip to Lusaka. This is a big step and as readers of my blog you know that this trip is not without peril but every little chick must leave the nest at some point even if it means falling straight on their head.--Not that this is going to happen!

Part of his preparation is gathering important papers and documents like passports and debit cards. Even though this feels like home it is still a foreign country and we must carry our passports.--Only one problem. His passport is new and didn't have the visa stamped in it. Where, oh where is the old one that showed his valid visa. Nowhere to be found! We hunted and searched and researched. It is gone!

Thankfully Tom was able to drive down to the village center where miraculously he found the immigration official (he was drunk out of his gourd--but at least he was there) and the passport got the all important stamp.

When Tom and Timmy came back Timmy announced that his dad had gotten into a 'big fight' in the boma. Have no fear. No blows were exchanged but words like "over my dead body" were exchanged. I was a very good wife and just said, "Did you at least get the passport stamped?" And he had so I decided not to worry about the argument. Turns out it was the immigration official flexing his muscles and trying to show his power. TIA!*

As Timmy decided what to pack he picked up his dad's old fanny pack and said it would be perfect for his important papers. I gasped with horror. Panic! and then my eyes fell on the blog I was reading by Chris Jordan over at AlphaMom about mistakes kids should be allowed to make. Right there in black and white: Let them wear the clothes and hair they want. Yikes! "Heed this", said the Lord.

"But, Lord Jesus, it's a fanny pack!"

"What is that to thee?" 

"Ok, Lord, I'll hold my tongue."

Moment of panic and argument averted.

Speaking of panic. Last month we took friends out to our little slice of paradise for a boat ride and Troy wanted to take his seven inch buck knife--to ward off crocs, I presume. Our friend offered to carry it on his belt and he did. Right up till the time he needed to use the restroom. Remember, out here we don't have nice public toilets. This is what we use.....

So, our friend undid his belt and watched in horror as the knife slid right off and.......PLOP!

Tom and a couple guys gathered around the tiny hole poking with sticks and brainstorming possible solutions, but to no avail. That knife met a watery, and awfully smelly, end.

Our friend felt awful and has promised to replace the knife. Then, along came Troy's birthday and lo and behold, a guest to his party presented him with a new little knife. This guest had no idea about Troy's old knife--he had outgrown this one and thought Troy would enjoy it.

Talk about panic--that's a thirteen year old boy and a large knife!

I will stay calm and breathe....

*This Is Africa