For years I have proclaimed the truth that until kids hit thirteen, they’re made of rubber. Recently I had a registered nurse back me up on this. Don’t act like what I’m saying is crazy. Any parent can look back on their child’s early years and see this principle in action. I like to compare it to insects. Have you ever noticed just how much abuse most bugs can take before they actually suffer any bodily, er…exoskeletony harm? I mean, you can throw a cockroach off of a roof and he’ll just keep right on runnin’. So long as he doesn’t land on his back, that is. I’m sure there are numerous physics laws in effect that cause this, but I’ll leave explaining those to the scientific type out there.

Let me give you a few personal examples. I have arguably perfect teeth. I don’t mean that they’re all gleamy white, perfectly fitted in my mouth, and meticulously aligned. I just mean they look normal, and I’m not missing any of them. I have all of my adult teeth, but there were several occasions where I felt certain I would lose some.

When I was in the Cub Scouts, we had a bike and kite activity one Saturday at a local church in Griffin, Georgia where I grew up. It was a big church with a huge parking lot and lots of green space. Obviously the fields were for kite flying, and the parking lot was for biking. I seem to remember that I had a new bike that I was very excited to ride. There was one part of the parking lot that had a great hill for racing down. Several of us were doing just that when the Scoutmasters signaled that it was time to officially start the activities. The guy on my right was slightly ahead of me, and the rest of the group was to our left. He decided very abruptly that instead of going all the way down the hill, he would just turn left and join the group. Incidentally turning left meant turning into Paul (and his sweet new bike). I, being the defensive driver, locked up all two of my brakes and sent myself head first over the handlebars and into the asphalt. Yes, I had a helmet on.

The next thing I remember, I was being helped through a hallway of the church to a bathroom. Blood was flowing freely from my mouth making it hard to determine just where the injury had occurred. After we got the bleeding under control, I was taxied to the E.R. to get looked over. The doctor poked and pulled and twisted and bent to see if I had any serious injuries, finally concluding that I was fine. Miraculously my teeth maintained their settings.

A few years later as a young teenager, I was messing around with a friend in the fellowship hall of our church. For some reason, Robby and I started chasing each other around a table, trying to peg each other with paper wads. I was using one of the metal folding chairs as a shield, trying to remain a low, small target. Just as Robby reared back to hurl his paper slug in my direction, I ducked behind the chair. Unfortunately the back of the metal chair went right into my top front teeth. It was one of those times where your head throbs and your eyes immediately begin to water. I wasn’t crying, mind you. That would not befit a fledgling young man such as I was. A thorough examination in front of yet another bathroom mirror proved that there was no damage to my pearly whites.

Almost fifteen years after the church incident, I was working in my basement trying to replace the pressure regulator on my home’s water line. The original was pretty old and hence was being very stubborn. Due to my limited selection of large wrenches and such, I was forced to use a pipe wrench on one side and my largest set of vice grips on the other. The pipe wrench is designed for this kind of work, but the vice grips are not. As I was pulling the two tools in opposite directions with all of my strength, the vice grips came off of the union and assaulted my mouth. (Bet you didn’t see that coming.) This was another one of those head-throbbing-eye-watering situations. This time my wife was in the basement with me, presumably for moral support, but furtively for backup just in case such an accident should occur. As I rushed past her with my hand over my mouth, I uttered a simple, “MMMMMM.” That’s a pained, I-just-injured-myself-in-a-stupid-way kind of “MMMMMM.”

Blood was flowing much more freely than from the biking incident, so my wife ran inside to get a wet rag for me. I stood outside bent at the waist letting the crimson faucet flow into the grass. After an exceptionally long time, she finally returned with a rag announcing that the delay was due to the water having been shut off earlier so I could remove the pressure regulator. She ended up having to scrounge water from the Brita pitcher in the fridge.

After the bleeding slowed, we made our way back inside. I sat down at the dining room table immediately upon entering the house. My wife stood next to me as I rested my elbow on the table and kept the rag on my mouth. A few minutes of silence passed. I started to feel lightheaded. Then I felt REALLY lightheaded. I uttered another pained, “OHHHH,” and the room went dark. I awoke to an interesting vista. I was prostrate on the floor, my wife kneeling next to me with a look of deep concern. I was the first to speak. “What happened?” I mumbled. “You passed out,” she succinctly proclaimed. I guess the rapid and profuse blood loss from my cabesa resulted in my consciousness deciding to take a mini vacation without warning me ahead of time. Yet through all of this, my teeth were no worse for the wear.

So perhaps age thirteen isn’t the magic age when people lose their elasticity. It could be a progressive change. Maybe it starts with one area of the body and radiates from there. Kind of like babies – they gain strength and mobility, literally, from their heads down to their toes. Or maybe it’s more of a matter of being young at heart. Whichever it is, I think, “The effects of children being hurled from roofs,” would make for an interesting physics study, though on someone else’s kids. So what is your story? Were you a “rubber child,” or did new front teeth perpetuate your Christmas list?