when my son was born i used to hold him and sing louis armstrong's "what a wonderful world" substituting "boy" for "world" in my elation.

he has always been my golden-haired golden boy and has the sweetest most kindly disposition.

but he's 15 now and for the last couple years dad has NOT been cool. attempts to engage him in conversation are met with monosyllabic grunts. his underperformance in school has us constantly at odds.

on thursday he broke a bone in his hand skateboarding. i took him to the emergency room at 9 pm and we left at 3 am. not a whole lot of bonding potential there. but a bonding experience it turned into.

i didn't have work on friday, my position was immutable, so i just made the most of it. in the waiting room a heavyset, big-bosomed woman waddled in. i leaned over and whispered to my son, "emergency breast reduction surgery." he cracked up.

i had brought some books and two decks of cards, a poker deck and an uno set we played those. in our late-night punch-drunkness we played a game where one of us had the poker deck and the other tried to guess which card was on the bottom. we went through the whole deck that way, card by card.

i swear, before i became too tired to concentrate, there were times when i just KNEW what card was next. in my first try i correctly guessed four of the 58 (two jokers), including two in a row. maybe that doestn't sound impressive but consider the odds. mind over matter maybe.

it wasn't my esp though that made the night. it was the fun we had together and my delight in seeing the innocent surprise in his face when the blind pig found the acorn, the serene goodness in his laugh when he "just missed" guessing the card correctly, e.g. guessing a five of diamonds when the card was a five of hearts.

we were shuttled from room to room as per medical school's "how to drive a patient nuts 101" procedure and ended up in examination room #3 for three hours. in addition to playing the guessing game we started playing with the medical equipment in there. they had one of those scopes that they use to look in your eyes and ears. we did that. the door to the room was open and he would reach for the scope or something else and then hear footsteps nearby and instantly get the "hand caught in the cookie jar" look on his face. i laughed hard and so did he. he's such a good young man that even something as innocuous as that stirs guilt that his personality can't hide.

we started to get destructive impulses as a guerilla tactic to get back at our captors. stck one of the ear probes in our anus and then put it back. more juvenile laughter.

there was a liquid soap dispenser by the door. i gave it a couple pumps and squirted it on the floor right at the entrance to the room. it was very slippery. we imagined the doctor coming in and slipping and falling on it. more laughter. but my good-hearted boy cleaned it up with a towel, afraid that the doctor might in fact slip on it.

they had given him an ice bag to put on his hand but the insulation prevented the thing from getting much below 50 degrees. we laughed at the absurdity of that.

as we were leaving the nurse asked us if we wanted a new ice bag. deadpan i said, "no, we're fine but that thing was great. it really helped." i caught my son's face in the reflection off the glass entryway. he was smiling, stifling a laugh and shaking his head at his dad's mischievevousness.

two days later we were in the car together and he said, "we had fun at the doctor's office." yes we did. that comment'll carry me through quite a few future bumps in the road.

-benjamin harris