Friday, August 19, 2011

Go Ahead, Extrapolate. Just...Do it Where I Can't See You

Every week, about three times a week, we drive past a house on our way to my in-law's place.  Inside that house is just some random dad of three boys.  His kids are all under the age of 10, and they've got just about the coolest dad ever.

The dad and his three boys built a catapult from scratch out of a bunch of 2x4s, a giant rubber band, and a coffee can.  It's probably 8 feet tall, and they use it to launch payloads at their neighbors or each other.  Or neighborhood girls a la Calvin and Hobbes.

The dad and his three boys built a bunch of benches, camouflaged them, and have been selling them for $25.  They've got the sign attached to the bench, and it seems like they're doing pretty well so far. I mean, who wouldn't want a camouflaged bench?  On second thought, it might be hard to see if you put it in the garden. 

The dad and his three boys have a giant tree house in their backyard, which, I presume, the father built and they're using as a base camp for all kind of awesome father-son adventures.

The dad and his three boys have at least 300 nerf guns and go around shooting each other with them at least three times a day.  ...Ok, i've never actually SEEN this happen, but I'm assuming.  Because it seems like something they'd do.  Because I know them and all.

And every winter, at least when there's enough snow, the dad and his three boys always build some kind of enormous structure that they use for amazing snowball fights.  One year it was an honest-to-god Igloo.  The next it was a snow fort the size of a small house.  Still another year they built a snowman that was without exaggeration the size of their two story house.  I'm still unsure how they did it.

I am guessing that either the dad owns his own business and works only a few hours a day, or he's a stay at home dad.

Growing up, the most my dad did with me was bring me and my brother on really long and grueling trips to terrible jungle locations with lots of cannibals, fire ants, and lava pits. And when we weren't on some arduous journey through Mordor, he was at work.  Yeah, he worked hard and all, but when it really comes down to it, he missed a lot of our childhood - and we missed a lot of our father.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to say here, but there's definitely something to be said.


  1. Sniff. Makes me wish I were a dad of three boys. Which you can imagine is very confusing for me.

  2. It's saying -- you know that you want to be present in Sammy's life and that's wonderful. Extrapolate all you want. :)

  3. I see fathers/kids like that and I really fear what I'm doing. I mean, I think I'm a pretty good dad - and I'm as present as possible, but . . . well, when the choice is to put my feet up or plan an activity for the next day, I put my feet up. And have a drink or two.

  4. To each their own, I suppose. My father was rarely there since he worked over 80 hours a week minimum, hernias and colds and all. So, no, he wasn't there to do awesome stuff like that but he taught me the meaning of hard work. And there is something HUGE to be said about that. Nobody wants to be married to a man who can't hold a job and thinks all of life is free and a game and that someone else will take care of them.
    It is sweet though, that you want to be involved in Sammy's life. I'm sure you will find a good balance.


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