Thursday, January 20, 2011

Football, Fatherhood and Feeling Guilty.

I have a guilty conscious.

For instance...

If I'm not spending time with my kids...I feel guilty. If I spend too much time with my kids...I feel guilty that I'm not experiencing the spice of life.

If I don't write or draw...I feel guilty. If I write or draw too much...I feel guilty that I should be doing other things, like running.

If I skip my daily run...I feel guilty. If I run too much...I feel guilty that I'm not spending enough time with my kids.

You get the idea.

It's a never-ending cycle that drives me absolutely bananas.

So, a week or so ago, I was feeling guilty about not spending enough time with my kids. In particular, my three-year old son.

As fate would have it, this past weekend we both had an opportunity to spend some 'Man-time' together when my wife decided to take our four-year old daughter to get her toes painted.

The NFL playoffs were on the tube, which sparked an idea...a perfect father-son tradition that has been handed down from Eimer generation to generation...

Tossing Football! The perfect male-bonding experience for any male, any age at any time.

As my son was napping (yes, he still naps), I ran to the garage and started searching for the pigskin. I hit paydirt - a Michael Vick-branded Atlanta Hawks football.

It was a football that my good, old dad purchased for me back in 2006 during our summer vacation at the Jersey Shore.

With football in hand, I walked in from the garage to find my bleary-eyed son, rubbing his eyes with one hand and holding an Ugly Doll in the other.

"Hey guy," I said holding up the football. "Wanna toss some football with your old man."

"Don't want to toss football," he said. "I want the ferry."

"Ferry?" I asked. "Are you looking for a ferry boat?"

"No," he said again. "A ferry."

"Let's just toss some football and we'll find the ferry later," I said as I lobbed the red and black oval into the air.

The ball bounced on the floor with a clunk. My son took off running.

"Hey," I yelled. "Where are you going?"

"I want to play with ferry!"

I sighed. Then I heard a loud happy shriek that sounded like a young girl, but was definitely from my young son.

"I found it," he exclaimed.

He turned the corner, a big smile on his face as he was holding a Tinker Bell figurine.

"Oh, a fairy," I said nodding my head as I picked up the football.

Then I looked at Tinker Bell. Then I looked back at the Michael Vick-branded football.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Then I thought....(click here).

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