and he ended up bestowing one on me.
I was like, "Do you know what the most important thing is?" and he was like "Doing good?" and I was all, yeah, but in the sense of the opposite of evil. I think he meant as opposed to doing poorly.
Anyway I was all do the right thing, try your hardest, etc. And after a bit he said "Can I play now?" And I realized that it's just as important to make time to play.
God, I love that kid. He's nine, going on fourteen. And I'm scared to death of when he's faster, stronger, and/or more coordinated than I am. But I'm also excited to see him succeed.
See, I'm still on that bleeding edge of being invincible in his eyes. You know, the hero worship thing. And one day, sooner rather than later, he's going to have that epiphany that every kid has. The whole "OMG, my dad isn't perfect" moment. AMAF it's kind of surprising that it isn't already happened.
But still, I see in him so many things I don't have. So many ways in which he can succeed in areas that I never could dream of. Athletics, his ability to deal with people. His charisma. And I don't want to ruin it the way I'm ruined. I mean, I do OK, but the level of success in my life is already kind of set. Upper-middle class professional, house in the suburbs, member-for-life of the Rat Race. Not bad, but I know that I could have done much better. "I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender." But I'm at peace with it, so it's time to concentrate on raising the next generation, you know?
The thing is, I don't want to put too much pressure on him. I need him to know that he can be as great as he wants to be, but that it's OK, crucial even, to take time to play.
Ah well, life goes on. And just being a spectator to the development of this exceptional young man is going to be fascinating, to say the least. Being a participant is going to be one hell of a ride. One hell of a scary, precipitous ride. But it's not like someone else is going to do it. So time to roll up my sleeves and get back to it, cos he's asking for attention again.