When I had my first child I was a (well what I would consider to be) pretty young parent. I was 21 and I was sure that I would be the cool dad, the dad that would be into the same things that his son was into. Of course your parenting views before the child is here and after are totally different as I found myself being, I would not say strict, but I was certainly not the “hey I will let my kid do what they want” type of dad. My folks to me felt like they were from a totally different generation, but I was sure that me and my son would be fine. But even I could not escape feeling like an old fart thanks to my son. This is purely just for fun today and I want to share a couple of stories with you of when thanks to my son I felt like I should be checking out old folks homes.
As a kid I would sit glued to Transformers, playing with the toys, the video games and books. My parents just did not get Transformers and I would sit there with a disgusted look on my face as I tried to explain it to them. This was back in (without giving away my age) around 1988. Fast forward a little over 20 years and my son is trying to explain to me how to play this video game called Bakugan. He loves Bakugan as much as I loved Transformers as a kid. But he sure as heck does not love playing Bakugan with me, be it the video games or the toys.
So we were playing this Bakugan video game and as much as I love video games, I had no clue what I was doing. I just did not get the whole Bakugan thing. Well, my son was getting more and more frustrated. I politely asked him “how do I shoot the fire”…… in a grumpy and aggravated voice he replied “HIT THE ATTACK BUTTON”…… “Erm, what one is the attack button again?” I asked. But rather than tell me he just grabbed the controller off me did the fire move, handed me back the controller and said “it’s really not that difficult” and BOOM. There I was back in 1988 trying to explain to my dad how to Transform my Ultra Magnus, Transformer figure.
Let’s Play Some Touch Football
One game in the summer that I love to play with my kids is touch football. It’s always a fun and friendly game and for years I would throw the games and let the kids win and taste glory. But as my kids got older and started to get stronger and faster and as my knees, shoulders and back got more creakier, they started to not really need my help. And then it happened on one hot, July day we were in the back yard playing some touch football, the game was close and I was not making it so it was close. They for the first time ever were onto a legit victory.
It was my two boys against me. The way we played it was that I would throw the ball to them or they would throw it to me and then you would start the game. I could hear my eldest son say “throw dad the ball and I will jump on him” What when did they start planning strategies? No big deal, I am older, stronger and faster and I played sports all through high school and college. They may be able to beat their old man one day… but today is not that day. My youngest son throws me the ball, I catch it and before I can even move, my eldest is on me like a freaking freight train and down I go, fumbling the ball, they pick it up score and win… I felt old as father time, but I could not have been more proud of how my boys kicked my butt.