I am watching the MLB All-star game. My son is watching the game in between playing with a T-Rex action figure (his plastic T-Rex is an action figure to my son, as G.I. Joes were action figures for me) and fighting the big green snake.
This was an epic battle: T-Rex on top, then Snakie would turn the tables.
This back-and-forth struggle ended with the mighty T-Rex, finally besting Snakie, giving him a good meal. With each blow and counter blow, my son would explain the action to me in words as well as actions–from one end of the couch to the other, making sure I missed none of the action of this battle-of-the-ages.
Now, I must point out that we were also trying to get him to eat some dinner, but my son seemed more concerned with his beloved T-Rex getting dinner (he did finally eat) .
After the Snakie/T-Rexageddon, he decided we needed to have our own battle royale. He drops T-Rex and Snakie and said, “Me fight you… Bring it on.” And, thus: Ticklageddon begun. We stopped here-and-there for water and game-watching breaks, and then he ate and headed off to bed with his mom.
After he left I got to thinking, “What if my son doesn’t like watching/playing sports as much as I do?” How would I react? Would I be upset or disappointed?
I see those reality-tv shows and read stories of moms and dads who push their children so hard–ride them to be great and, really, living life through the child’s achievements. What would that take–to ignore what my son wants and re-live my dreams? I’d have to forget the excitement and joy I saw on his little face, as I sat there and watched his play-battle between T-Rex and Snakie. Could I ever be “one of those” parents?
I belong to a daddy blogger group, and I was asked by one of my fellow bloggers, “Why do you blo ? What is the purpose of your blog?” For me, it is a kind of diary, a daddy manifesto of my journey through fatherhood: my ups and downs, my triumphs and failures as a dad. It’s an honest assessment for my son to read later in life. I want him to know how my abilities as his dad were not learned overnight, nor was I perfect in the execution of my intentions–to be a good dad.
My hope is that he will learn and come to understand me better: who I am/was through this process, during the early years of his life. Plus, if something ever happens to me, he will have this small piece of me. It’s a small window into who I am and also a glimpse at the early stages of the man I hope and know he will grow up to be.
I also write this blog for the other dads out there, who feel they may be alone in their thinking, how it feels to be a dad, what struggles other dads go through. All dad struggle, but we are not alone. There are other dads who aren’t afraid to show their children love and affection, who wants to be a part of their lives, and want to take more of an active role. We know that being a dad is more than the “babysitting your child” or “poor kids; no mom today” type of attitudes.
So, will I be upset that my son doesn’t love sports like me? Will I be upset that he may never be an MLB All-star? If he loves sports like me, will I be “one of those parents”?
The answers are simple and easy. No, I won’t be upset or sad, or “one of those parents.”
What would make me sad and upset would be: to see the joy and excitement not be in my son’s eyes or in his features. To see him lose that–that would make me sad and upset!
For me, whatever he wants to do or be will make him an “All-star” in my eyes.
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