I want to let him win all the time…


This was not long before the crushing began.
This was not long before the crushing began.

When we play a game, any kind of game – video, board, card – and it’s my 4-year-old son versus myself, I want to let him win all the time.

I don’t. I resist the urge to sit back and play passively. I don’t hold back.

It’s not like I just throw him into the water and expect him to swim (metaphorically, of course). I show him how to play and try to guide him, letting him know what’s right and wrong, before crushing him.

I remember my father not letting either my brother or I win at anything unless we legitimately won.

For instance, I didn’t beat my father in a one-on-one game of basketball until I was 18-years-old. He fouled me, trash talked, and generally gave me very little room to breathe. At the time I remember being pissed I couldn’t win. I also recall it making me work harder on my game. I practiced more, I worked harder.

Now, I’m not taking my son out to the court to rough him up just yet. It’s still a bit of a mismatch. Although I am grossly out of shape, but that’s beside the point. Continue reading

The first born’s school Christmas concert


So despite the awesome weather we were having Will’s school went on with their Christmas concert.

It was timed perfectly at 10:30 AM.

Ah, it was fine. I didn’t drive my pregnant wife shimmied her twinderful belly behind the wheel.

Anyway, I was in charge of taking the video of our boy in action. He was pumped. We were pumped.

Then we watched the video and my lovely wife turned to my son and said, “Mommy will take the video next time.”

And so without further adieu (fyi – he’s right on the other side of the boy with the brown coat, he’s there, trust me);