Maybe my real son is in another castle

I’m slowing learning that kids are more than an endless story of great poop stories.

Contrary to how it’s portrayed in after school specials, there’s actually a lot of advantages to having kids. They force you to grow up in ways you never thought possible. You see the world again for the first time with fresh eyes. You get to experience all the highs and lows of life all over again, now with the wisdom of your years.

They’re also little balls of proof that you’ve had sex that follow you around.

Along with all that, you get to teach them stuff. Not just stupid stuff like how to tie shoelaces or right from wrong. Fun stuff too. Just as my dad spent hours with my and a wiffle bat trying to teach me the sport he loved, I too can now spend time teach my son about what’s important to me.

And I have to say, I love my son, but I hate how bad he is at video games.

I can’t talk to my parents about this frustration. They’re normally great at reminding me that everything my son does to me I totally deserve. Every time I tell them about how he has drew on the wall, threw dinner in my face or walked around naked at church they just laugh as recount some story about how I did the exact same thing when I was his age. Or my senior year.

It’s demeaning and comforting at the same time which - as far as I can tell - is the basis of all good parenting.

But when I bring up the video game thing they just change the subject to something unrelated like how I need to focus more on growing up.

And they could totally do that again here. Everything he is doing to me I totally deserve. I have a vague recollection of Pac-man machine at grocery store and an even vaguer recollection of my mom hating that thing.

It's easy to understand why she hated it. This was the mid 80s when 25 cents was a lot of money to let a 3 year mash buttons and move a joystick in random directions for 20 seconds followed by 5 minutes of crying because the ghost got them.

That’s my life now. Only it didn't cost me a quarter, the ghost had way more pixels and I’m the one crying instead of him.

Seriously, how can he be this bad at them!

This is up early because tomorrow after work I'm going out of town for the week end. Always remember, Steve never leaves you hangin.

No comments: