This is the question my husband posed to our son tonight. It’s an appropriate metaphor since Casey is “car crazy.” It’s in his DNA, I think. I have no recollection of how, as a toddler in New York City, he learned the names of cars, fancy and not, big and small, but before I knew it, the kid spotted them all and made a game of naming them on the city streets. Memorizing car logos is how he
learned to read, a critical link to the visual learner he would become, which I failed to see at first.
Back to the Ferrari lecture. Casey and his twin sister, Rebecca, are now third graders, and because they are the oldest grade of their mixed-age classrooms, they are feeling more responsibility to lead. It’s good though, since as smart and intuitive and compassionate and kind as they are, like many kids, they aren’t always self-directed. Which means that Casey needs a little re-focusing so that he understands the expectations from his parents and teachers and can learn to take pride in his work.
Since Casey loves Ferraris more than any other type of car, Steve asked him to imagine the following scenario. “What happens when your Ferrari needs an engine check?” “What about air in the tires?” “What about gas?”
Each time, Casey answered as you’d expect. “You fill the tank with gas, you get air, you feed it with what it needs to be the best car in the world.”
“Casey, you are like a Ferrari,” Steve tells him. “You’ve got all it takes to operate at your very best. Pay attention to the details, the little things, and act like the Ferrari you are capable of being.”
Tonight didn’t work out exactly as planned. I’m sick with a bad cold and subsequently had to miss Rosh Hashanah services. Still, the New Year was made sweeter tonight by this generous discussion that carries meaning far beyond Casey’s world.
There isn’t a soul among us who doesn’t have the Ferrari in them. So let it rip.