On the day the school year ended, I took my 9-year-old son to the beach. The sea was unusually rough for this otherwise warm summer. The waves were high and a red flag fluttered over the lifeguard’s booth, warning bathers to be especially careful.
“If you see a big wave, get under it,” I cautioned my son. “Let it pass over you. Don’t confront it. Don’t let it hit you, because that could be dangerous.” I never took my eyes off him for a moment in the choppy water. Whenever a huge wave threatened to roll over us and knock us down, we both dove under it and made our way through the stream of water that seethed and foamed above our heads like a raging storm.