Like many kids, I grew up thinking my dad was Superman, Aquaman and Spider-Man all rolled into one. With a side order of Joe Montana and Bob Vila. He was the handiest, most athletic and street-wise guy I knew. Of
Like many kids, I grew up thinking my dad was Superman, Aquaman and Spider-Man all rolled into one. With a side order of Joe Montana and Bob Vila.
He was the handiest, most athletic and street-wise guy I knew. Of course, he was the only adult male I knew.
Only gradually did chunks of Kryptonite turn up. It took until my teenage years to realize that semi-handy, mildly athletic and somewhat street-aware were closer to the truth of the man.
My own son, Sean, is still trying to wrap his 2-year-old brain around dad’s role in the household. In his world, anytime I’m out of sight I’m either driving to work or cutting the grass.
As he continues to grow, I’m worried he’ll take away my cape too quickly. So now’s the time to plan. I’m building a list of skills to perfect before I pass them along to him — a sort of Fatherhood Bucket List.
Not stuff like kindness and discipline; those are givens. My superhero status will be cemented if I can someday teach the kid how to:
— Change a tire. Back when I was king of the high-mileage 1970s beaters, I needed to carry a lug wrench in my back pocket. But reliable transportation over the past 15 years has robbed me of that skill. We’re a Toyota family, so he might need it.
— Tell a finch from a swallow at the birdhouse. As a country boy, I got frequent lessons from my own father. He’d fill me in on the habits of some colorful songbird while I’d nod with feigned interest and daydream about girls and sports and being somewhere else.
— Hit for power. I played a pretty solid shortstop in youth baseball and rec-league softball. But what kid aspires to be a utility infielder?
— Read and write properly. As a journalist, I should probably know the difference between participles, prepositions and conjugated verbs. The problem is I left that stuff back in my Trapper Keeper. I can’t remember why the semicolon goes there, son. It just does.
It’s going to be tough to find free time for personal growth. Parents, it seems in my limited experience, don’t choose to be unselfish. Selfishness simply is no longer an option on the menu.
Somewhere between giving baths, cutting up fruit, racing Matchbox cars, childproofing and other chores, I’ll try to squeeze in some practice time on these and other skills. That should leave enough hours to take on that nagging Middle East crisis.
If that fails, maybe all isn’t lost. Maybe father and son can learn those things together. Every superhero needs a sidekick.
• Reporter Mike Moore writes Daddy Talk. Mommy Talk is written by reporters Marci Laehr Tenuta and Janine Anderson. Their columns run in a three-week rotation and can be found online at www.journaltimes.com/mom.
