I wish I could somehow take all of the knowledge and information I have gained over the years and export it into my children’s heads.

If I could do that, my kids wouldn’t have to make the same dumb mistakes I once made. But some kids simply have to learn the hard way. They are not wired to accept information from their parental units.

I’ve got one like that.

My 10-year-old decided in December that building a raft was a good idea. I told him that I tried that when I was a kid, and I got wet. He, of course, insinuated that I was dumb as a stump and was convinced he would have a different outcome.

He put together some branches with fishing line and roofing nails and was annoyed when, after launch, he realized it wasn’t high enough to keep him dry.

He asked for some 2-
liter bottles from the recycling bin. He thought it would help the raft float higher.

“How will you attached them?” I asked.

“With nails.”

“You realize that if a bottle has holes in it, it won’t float, right?”

“They’ll float,” he said with a stunning degree of certainty for someone who was building his first ship.

He went out with the bottles, nails and a hammer.

A few minutes later, he came back with wet sneakers.

“As soon as I stepped on it, it tipped,” he said, surprised.

“Really? I didn’t see that coming.”

“I think I need something with sides,” he decided.

“You mean like a boat?”

“Noooo,” he said as if he was talking to a moron. “I’m trying to build a boat! Can I try using the recycle bin?”

“It’s not wide enough, you know. If you get in, it will tip over.” This pertinent piece of information merely bounced off his thick noggin.

“No, it won’t,” my little genius argued.

He grabbed the plastic recycle bin and headed out the door. I watched him place his “boat” in the water. Balancing, he gingerly boarded his craft. Almost immediately, it listed to one side and pitched its passenger into the freezing water.

It must hurt when information finally penetrates a kid’s skull because he cried all the way to a hot bath.