Recently, on Instagram, I asked a select group of followers (those who subscribe to my nascent “channel,” which allows me to send them group DMs, for some reason, but at least it’s free!) what I should write about this week, and someone suggested “kids’ Christmas wish lists.” Unfortunately, I don’t think I have enough space for that!
Actually, that’s a lie. My kids don’t ask for that much—especially now that we have a cat and their “we want a pet!” itch has been scratched—but the rub is that the things they do want are insanely expensive. This is (one of) the (many) problem(s) with having a 13-year-old.
Detective Munch doesn’t want toys, he wants a PlayStation 5. He doesn’t want LEGO sets, he wants a VR set. (The problem with my 7-year-old is that he still wants LEGO sets and they somehow cost hundreds of dollars too; 2023 is hell.) And that’s basically that for the kids’ wish list topic. Thanks for the suggestion though, @_uk_all_day!
Let’s pivot to something more important: what *I* want.
Just kidding. The things I want are all intangible and impossible to wrap. Financial security; a good Superman movie; my kids to listen; a deep Dolphins playoff run; Ana de Armas; etc. You can pre-order my book though!
And besides, over the past few months, I’ve been reminded to be careful what I wish for. Last week, I wrote about the silly ways parents try to predict their kids futures, and now I’m learning that sometimes even when your kids start turning out the way you want them to, it’s not all sunshine and lollipops.
I used to look forward to having older kids—we could have “real” conversations, we can share better movies, they can stay home without a babysitter—then my son became a teenager. He made us watch the Five Nights at Freddy’s movie (the video game-based mythology of which is borderline incomprehensible), and this morning, we had a conversation about balls. (Yes, those balls.) That was “real", in a horrifying way.
I don’t want to pile on my 13-year-old - god knows I do that enough (too much!) at home, and he has plenty of things to deal with already - and I already wrote a post about how it’s silly to expect sudden changes in your kids just because they have a “teen” at the end of their age. But I’ll be damned if my guy hasn’t had some sudden changes! He sleeps later, which is great expect every single day of the school week, he’s more irritable, and he wants less and less to do with us these days. Mom and Buried is particularly bummed as his interest in our family holiday traditions steadily declines.
I am long on the record about not being one of those ‘they grow up too fast’ parents (despite some recent bumps in that record), because I’m excited to see who my kids become. But I’m starting to realize that I might want to skip this teenage, work-in-progress, trial-by-fire phase and jump straight to adulthood. Because so far it’s not so fun! (Did I mention he may be on his way to becoming a theater kid, about which I have mixed feelings.)
As for my 7-year-old, he’s making my dreams come true by actually being interested in sports (unlike his brother, who hates them with a passion). Not only did The Hammer have a fun and successful first season of flag football, he’s getting dialed in on the the Dolphins too. I love the bonding—especially when he watches games with me, which is really only the night games because he mostly just wants to stay up later than usual—but his interest is bordering on obsession!
My dude hardly goes ten minutes without picking up a football and throwing it to himself all over the house, nearly knocking over the TV and actually knocking over multiple drinks, all while loudly serving as the play-by-play announcer for his imaginary, insanely high-scoring games (‘oh my god the Dolphins get in the endzone again to make it 104 to 76!’ - which frankly isn’t all that far off some weeks, sorry Denver.) He won’t stop playing Retro Bowl on his tablet (that’s my bad - both the Retro Bowl and the tablet), and he never stops begging me to go outside and play catch with him despite the fact that it’s cold and I’m tired (cue ‘Cats in the Cradle’).
On Thanksgiving, I spent most of the day throwing it to him out in the yard. My arm was killing me so bad, I started throwing lefty just to save myself. Now they both hurt.
Oh, that’s something I want for Christmas: an ice pack.
Social Media Round-up
Book Update
A few weeks ago, I shared the cover to my book, and have been encouraging everyone to pre-order it. But since it’s not coming out until next year, the marketing team at my publishing house doesn’t want me to really put on the full-court pre-order press until after the holidays, so as not to confuse anyone who expects Dad Truths to land under their tree this year.
So come 2024, I’ll be shilling like crazy, and I hope you won’t get too annoyed by it. Daddy needs a new pair of shoes! (Literally, I haven’t bought new shoes since before the pandemic and the situation is dire.)
I need to come up with some special incentives for everyone who buys it early—signed headshots, bottlecaps from beers I’ve recently enjoyed, laundry I never got around to folding, that kind of thing—so let me know if you have any ideas!
And while you’re noodling, go ahead and pre-order it anyway. You can always buy two!