Me: “What did you do at camp today?”
Little Miss Thing, age 5: “We made ice cream.”
Me: “Very cool. How did you make it? With cream and sugar?”
LMT: “No, I made it with… a door knob… and a crushed up car… and an old stop sign… and chocolate syrup.”
Me: “Wow… I didn’t know that’s how ice cream was made. Did you stir it?”
LMT: “No. I put gas on it and lit a match and it went BOOM!”
Me: “I had no idea it worked like that.”
LMT: “It’s Chemistry.”
Danger Monkey, age 8: “Hey let’s play Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock. You have to start at level one.”
Me: “So you turned it into an RPG?”
DM: “You are a Level One Rock. Your next upgrade is to meteor, where you get a bonus attack.”
Me: “These are tears of joy, son.”
Geeky Dad is so proud.
I don’t usually buy into the ego trap of complaining about “kids these days,” but I do think it’s a tangible loss that kids just don’t play outside as much anymore. School is great and, sure, lessons and play dates and indoor games are all good. But there is no replacement for the long hours of completely un-structured play I got to enjoy as a child. Kids are designed to get dirty and run and fall and get hurt and get scabs on your knees and stung by things and poison ivy and climb things and explore and make up games and stretch their legs and minds.
Very Vocal Viking 