Thursday, January 20, 2011
Football, Fatherhood and Feeling Guilty.
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).