Father Really Doesn’t Know Best
11/19/2011
(Saturday About 7:00 am)
My son is in the TV Room (aka Family Room/aka The Room Where We Watch TV) sleeping peacefully after a wild night of, well, sleeping in the TV Room. This is big stuff for him. Quite possibly the first time he's ever done that. "Why?" you ask.
Well I tried a bit of dad psychology and it backfired. Let me set it up.
Several years ago, I listened to an interview of a writer discus his childhood. The writer (name forgotten) mentioned his great fear of bears as a young child. His dad, knowing that a simple, "No, really, there are no bears in this backyard" declaration really wouldn't do the trick so to calm fears decided to tell his son, "Tell you what, if we do see any bears back here tonight, I'll give you five bucks." With that, the ursa-phobe began to switch his focus from the horror of a grizzly attack towards the idea of "Well, it would be terrible if a bear attacked but with that $5, I could....." That story has stuck with me all this time. To my detriment, it seems.
So, last night, we're all watching a Superman animated movie. It's about 45 minutes into the show and things are looking mighty grim for the Man of Steel. There just doesn't seem to be any way he would be able to escape the deadly fate cooked up by the evil Lex Luthor*. I could see that this was really upsetting my lil' Man of Steel. The lower lip was starting to jut out, the eyes were watering and he kept looking away from me and he kept saying "He's going to die." (Way to be positive, son.)
For some strange reason, if our son broke down into tears as all three of us watched the movie, it would somehow be my fault. So, with the certainly that watching 53 thousand superhero shows/movies brings, I told Xander that I was positive that Superman would be fine by the end of the show but IF he did die, I'd pay Xander $10...and he could sleep downstairs today. With suspicious haste, Xander demanded it be doubled to $20 and that I throw in a trip to (shudder!) Chuck E. Cheese.
Did he have some sort of inside knowledge? Hmmm...I can say that after we shook hands, he immediately and enthusiastically switched over to "Team Lex". What had I created??
When Wendi returned from drying her hair, Xander told her the bet we made. She asked exactly what I would get if I won the bet and I said, with much confidence (aka stupidity), that my son would have to admit that father knows best. The understood but unstated other advantage of winning the bet was that a weeping child did not make for a "the kid's asleep" romantic evening.
Well, at this point, you probably know where this is going. Despite my protestations that Superman was probably still alive, just...uh...trapped in the sun or about to be reborn (very deep, today's super heroes) Wendi, my wife, my love, my friend, my senior year prom date, gleefully ruled that I had lost the bet. Told Xander to go get his pillows and sleeping bag. And asked me where I'd get $20. She helpfully recommended I could mow lawns in the neighborhood. And finally, inquired as to when I would take him to (the worst restaurant in the world) Chuck E. Cheese.
Stupid, modern, self-important cartoons. This wouldn't have happened if we'd just stuck to Superfriends......
Better go put up my lawn service flyers.
Brian
Who Really Doesn't Know Best
*Side note. During the movie, we learned that Mr. Luthor's full first name is Alexander. My son was shocked, shocked.