Last night I saw the essence of fatherhood.
Because his school was closed I let Goofboy stay up late and watch Monday night football. A very big, exciting thing for him.
I have (besides a residual hatred for the Yankees) absolutely no interest in sports. I was looking forward to getting in some good treadmill time and watching my idiot sitcoms. I am attempting to maintain spiritual balance - as I do something good for my body, I pump garbage into my brain. Alternately, I eat Twinkies when I read Kierkegaard.
But my son kept coming downstairs to see me. He looked despondent and a little lonely.
"Hey buddy, put the game on downstairs with me - let's watch together," I told him.
So, for 90 minutes I watched a game that I had no interest in, while listening to his extensive color commentary and fury at officials. It was a tiny sacrifice to make the night special for him.
The big sacrifices (like money and time) are barely noticed as the years go by. And the dramatic ones - like rushing him to the hospital in the dead of night - are really nothing but human decency. I'd like to think I would do those things for anyone in dire need.
But to give up a little pleasure to give him a great one - that is what being a dad is all about.
1 comment:
Goofboy is the name of your son or is that a term of endearment? I love your rambling, it's so heartwarming. Btw, Soren is one of my favorite Danish philosophers. Frankly, I never enjoyed watching a baseball game in person; I went to the World Series in October 2003 and sat seven rows from the players. I couldn't wait for it to be over. I didn't care whether the Yankees win or not. Just wanted the game to end. I much prefer watching it on television because I get the added benefit of the commentaries. Btw, I find baseball to be a big yawn.
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