For my wife’s birthday, I bought her Titanic on video. Our 3-year-old, Max, wanted to watch it, but I told him it was for grown-ups. At nursery school pickup, his teacher laughed: Max had told everyone we watched Titanic alone at night. After clarifying it was the ship movie, we laughed it off, but Max became obsessed with the Titanic, asking questions and drawing ships. One night, he compared our rushed marriage and early parenthood to the ship hitting an iceberg, prompting a deep conversation with my wife. We made changes—more family time,
rediscovering hobbies. Max’s wisdom grew; at nine, he eerily “knew” details at a Titanic exhibit. At 13, he comforted our grieving neighbor and joined a mentorship group. By college, studying psychology, he gave us the same Titanic DVD with a note thanking us for steering through life’s icebergs. We rewatched it, reflecting on our journey. Max taught us to slow down, face challenges, and listen to the quiet wisdom of those we underestimate. His insight helped us navigate life’s storms and cherish the moments that matter.
