Buckle found a new confidence, with Pat depending on him. Someone was looking up to him now. And as it sometimes does, this burgeoning sense of importance had some negative side effects.
He started weightlifting. He worked his way up to being able to press a Q-tip. I approve heartily of fitness, but since his focus was on Pat’s reaction, rather than personal improvement, he was careless. Pat rushed to tell me that while working out, Buckle got himself stuck in the medicine cabinet, and needed rescuing.
And risky behavior? Never mind eyeball stands, that was tame. Now I was finding Buckle in precarious and frightening situations. He climbed to the top of the china cabinet with a rubber band, intending to bungee jump. He built a sailboard out of a popsicle stick and a napkin. I retrieved him from the bottom of the bathtub and dried him off. Then he tried parkour, and my bookshelves and hardwood floors took a pounding from his landings. All of it was just showing off to Pat.
I wasn’t sure how to get through to my reckless rock. My warnings went unheeded – it was like he had no ears. It was only when Pat tried a risky stunt of her own that Buckle realized how his foolishness had placed her in danger.
Buckle was very upset. He was even more upset when he found out the pop culture reference, and what it meant. He vowed to be a better example to his beloved Pat. They realize now that the greatest adventure is life itself.
Well, that and extreme hardcore subterranean deep basement exploration. I really should go check on their progress; haven’t heard a sound from them in a while.