In some cultures, when a child reaches a certain age he or she is sent out on a vision quest. This is usually the time for the child to face all of their deepest childhood fears (both real and imaginary), so that—hopefully—upon successfully completing their quest they will return back to their community a better person. Or, at the very least, they can return home better able to handle the world in which they live.
Sometimes, of course, these quests turned out to be so dangerous that the participants don’t return at all, again either because of the real or imaginary dangers encountered in the wild. This is because while different cultures all have different versions of their vision quest, they all seem to have two things in common: one, that at least some of the danger faced must be real, and two, that the participant must face the danger alone. Think of Spartan boys (at least the ones who inhabit the Frank Miller universe) being sent out to face a deadly wolf and you begin to get the idea.
Bearing all of this in mind, I recently decided that, even though he is only eight, the time had come to send my son, Clyde, on a vision quest of his own. There were two factors that played heavily in my making this decision. One was that I really think that the extra challenge and responsibility of having his own vision quest will help him deal with all of the trials and tribulations of the world he currently inhabits. And two: the particular quest I’ve given him is one that I’m afraid to do on my own.
Yeah, that’s right: I made it his job to wake up his sister, Clementine, in time for her to get to school in the morning.
Poor Clyde. Each and every school day, armed only with his wits and his trusty PS3 remote, Clyde must venture into the very bowels of the Twilight shrine and wake up his sister. Not just once, but every day. And while you might think that repeated trips back into the lion’s den would at least teach you how to handle lions, the truth of the matter is that Clementine is more like a Hydra than a lion: every time you think you’ve come up with a way to deal with her she simply grows a new (and completely different) head.
Think you’re going to try the “gently patting her arm while whispering her name” approach, because that worked yesterday? Think again, because this morning she has been lying in bed for the past hour and a half, eagerly awaiting her opportunity to jump up like a vampire who has just seen the stake and send any would-be Van Helsings scurrying back to the sanctuary of the living room.
Okay, I know what you’re saying: why send anyone in to wake her up at all? Why not just get her an alarm clock, and let it suffer the abuse? Well, for one thing, in the same way that scientists believe that Black Holes swallow electrical pulses, Clementine’s room eats electric devices. And also: it really is a good vision quest. After all, if the purpose of the vision quest is to better prepare a child for the world in which they will eventually live as an adult, then what better way to prepare Clyde for the world of surly DMV clerks and unhelpful help-line operators than by having him face his irritable sister each and every morning?
Sure, he might have a few more scars than the average 8-year-old to show for it, but think of the payoff: he’ll be like a Spartan, but with surly girls. Which, in this universe, is a way better skill than the ability to fight off a wolf.