Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

Crab Lessons

By Zambri-Dickerson

My son Geordi is a rather spirited boy. Very little holds his

attention

for long. He spends most of his spare time thinking up new ways to scare me

half

to death. Like the time he decided to " surf " on a tiny plastic lawn table

that

was meant to hold a few drinks rather than a six-year-old boy. Or when he

came

up with a new magic trick that included making his older sister disappear.

Geordi had just begun learning about the ocean in school and was

surprisingly

fascinated by it. We lived in Delaware, so any discussion about the ocean

usually included horseshoe crabs, which swarmed our coasts to mate in the

late

spring.

As part of the lesson, Geordi's teacher brought horseshoe crab shells

to

school for the children to touch and examine. When the teacher told the

class

that horseshoe crabs had been around for over 300 million years, even before

the

dinosaurs, Geordi thought that was officially the coolest thing he had ever

heard. He could not stop talking about it for days, and I decided it was

time

for us to take a drive.

We arrived at a quiet area along the Delaware Bay. As we stepped out

from

the car, huge gusts of wind nearly blew my poor forty-five-pound child to

the

ground. Being six years old and always looking for an excuse to be goofy,

Geordi saw this as an opportunity to showcase his amazing talents, which

included falling down, getting up, falling down and, yes, getting up again.

This, of course, was always complete with sound effects, such as, " Whoa, I'm

falling . . . ! " and " Help me . . . ! " with giggles and snorting included.

An

Academy Award?winning performance as one would expect. The drama came to an

abrupt halt as Geordi spied the dozens of army-truck-looking creatures in

the

sand. The next sound effect was " Wow! " as his body froze and his eyes

widened

with wonder.

Geordi ran around frantically, not knowing which one to check out

first.

He settled on a horseshoe crab that was on his back, legs flailing in the

air.

" Mom, look at this one! " he yelled. " He's cool! " I pointed out the

different

body parts of the crab for him, and he listened quietly and absorbed the

information. Then I picked up the crab, turned it over to its proper

position

and placed it at the edge of the water. Geordi asked what I was doing. I

explained to him that if the crab got stuck on its back and could not get

back

to the water soon, it would die. Horseshoe crabs, I told him, are very

important in many ways. Their eggs are a great food source for birds, and

their

shells and blood have special medical properties that can help many people.

Besides, it didn't seem right to let a species that had survived so long

just

shrivel up in the sun. So we watched the horseshoe crab slowly make his way

back into the ocean and Geordi said, " I really liked him. I think I will

name

him Spike because he had all those really cool, spiky things on his back. "

Geordi spotted many, many more horseshoe crabs on their backs and

decided

that we should help them all. Without fear or hesitation, he began picking

up

stranded horseshoe crabs and flipping them over, and I carried them to the

water. He even assigned a name to each of them. " This one is Fuzzy, like

our

cat . . . this one's name will be Crazy Crab because he's moving around so

much

.. . . " Geordi said as he flipped them over. He was extra careful and

gentle,

worried that he may hurt one.

When the job was done and it was time to leave, Geordi asked, " Do you

think

we will ever see Spike again? "

" Maybe, " I said, " but now that we have helped him, we know he will be

okay

even if we don't see him again. " Looking satisfied with that answer, Geordi

said, " Yeah, that is the most important thing. " And, suddenly, my son who

was

usually cavorting like a maniac, looked to me like a grown boy for the first

time.