A Father's Job

I love my job.  No, not the one I get paid for.  (ok, that one's fun too)

No, I'm talking about the one where I get to teach the kids that life is difficult.  But to keep on keepin' on.

By buying them scooters.

(stick with me here...)

Yes, I did.  boise.craigslist.com listing...the guy had 2 used ones at a price I just couldn't pass up.

15mph, electric, and an absolute hoot and a hollar.  (Janey's translation: "potential kid dismembering death traps")

Now how, do you rightly ask, could I possibly be in my right mind by saying "this teaches the kids that life is hard." 

I'm getting to that.  Be patient.  (that's another thing I get to teach my kids. Patience.)

So we bought those two electric mini bikes.  (and helmets)  And 15mph is pretty fast.  But it's not, generally speaking, life threatening.  (see the aforementioned helmets)

But it - very likely - hurts.  Skinned knees.  Bonked noggins.  Wipeout/rolls along the ground. 

Now while Janey maintains that my job is to try to maim the kids and her job is to keep me from maiming them too severely I look at it differently.  Life skins you up sometimes.  Tosses you higglety-pigglety and skids you along for a while.  It hurts.  Knocks the wind out of you.  Gives you some bruises and blood.

Does that mean you give up?  Absolutly not.  If we had horses,  I could draw the appropriate "if the horse bucks you off..." analogy...but we don't have horses.  (let me repeat that...we *don't* have horses.)  But we now have these.

So, you see, in my own fatherly way I'm grooming these kids to ride life to the fullest, deal with the inevitable crash and burn, and keep going.

It was hard.  But sometimes love must be tough.