Dad still knows how to make a point
The Boy was about to turn 10. That's a big age for a kid because they're now close to being a teenager, which is close to being a high schooler, which is close to being a quasi-adult with pimples.
Yeah, turning 10 is a pretty big deal.
He tossed a Nerf football in my direction. I snagged the ball close to the tree where the dog does his business and tiptoed into the driveway. At this point, I didn't realize how out of touch I was with the world of today's 10-year-old boy. That would soon change.
I tossed the football back.
"I've been thinking about what I want for my birthday," the Boy said, pulling the ball out of the air.
I smiled. I remembered when I was a kid. Heck, he probably wants a BB gun, a video game, a puppy, a new baseball mitt ...
"I need a cell phone," he said, tossing the football in a pretty tight spiral.
The ball hit me in the chest and bounced precariously close to the Land of Dog Pooh.
"What?"
At his age, all I needed for my birthday was a GI Joe with Kung Fu Grip. I didn't need a cell phone.
OK, OK, so the closest thing to cell phone technology I'd seen as a kid was on "Star Trek." The point is I wanted a toy, not a piece of communication equipment capable of connecting me with people who don't even speak English. The only way I'd have possessed something like that as a kid is if I'd been a spy for the Russians.
Uh, which I wasn't*.
"I need a cell phone," he said again, running toward me to pick up the ball and toss it back. This time I caught it.
"You don't need a cell phone," I told him. "Cell phones are for adults, Mulder and Scully, teenage girls who can't shut the heck up and crack dealers. You're not a crack dealer or a teenage girl, are you?"
"No," he said. "But I still need a cell phone."
I frowned at the boy. The last thing he really, really wanted was Pokémon bed sheets. Now he needs something so he can talk to kids he'll see at school anyway. What will he talk to them about? Probably his really cool Pokémon bed sheets.
I felt the need, as Dad, to use my superior height, weight and upper body strength to put the Boy in his place. I threw the Nerf ball like a rocket toward him. He caught it anyway.
"Why do you need a cell phone?" I asked, putting the appropriate stand-up comic emphasis on the word "need."
"Because kids my age on TV have cell phones."
That's it. I knew cable television would signal the apocalypse.
"Kids your age on TV are secret agents, billionaires and spaceship pilots," I said. "When you're one of those, we'll talk."
I threw the ball at him, and he dropped it.
Yeah, the Boy's growing up, but Dad's still king.
*Actually, during the Cold War, I was a spy for the state government of Wisconsin. The Cold War was all about cheese. Not many people know that.
