Friday, May 25, 2012

guest post: the hubs talks about play

The hubs guest blogs for the last time this NaBloPomo! This time, about play, this month's theme. ~Alicia

The “I Have A Child” Excuse

One of the many perks to having a child (other than that whole “love” and “family” thing that people keep taking about) is that you suddenly have a chance to do all the fun stuff that you did as a kid without all the social derision.

If you’re out in the world, having a child with you is sort of a “Get Out Of Jail Free” card for odd social behavior. You see a grown man pushing around a car or playing with a Thor action figure in the middle of the mall with his son or daughter, and you think “Aww, what a loving father.” Same situation, minus the kid? Everyone avoids him, parents hide their children, security is called, someone gets tazed, mass hysteria.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

The world opens back up for all the men and women who spent their childhood loving cartoons, Legos, and Star Wars action figures. Suddenly things that we have been told we’re “above” or “too old for” are there once again, begging us to play with them, to watch them. 

Sure, right now it’s a lot of stuff that truly is way too young for us. Yo Gabba Gabba is not exactly known for its plotlines, and giant wooden blocks are a far cry from the awesomeness of Legos. But I squeal with delight every time I pass a Transformers toy display in the store, thinking to myself “soon I will buy these… for Grayson… yes, for Grayson.”

It is the same elsewhere as well. Picture yourself on the beach. Go ahead. I can wait. Ok, there? Ok. You’re on the beach, and nearby you see a grown man, shoveling mindlessly in the sand. Maybe he’s building a sandcastle, maybe he’s just digging a trench to watch the water run into it. Weird, right? Creepy. “Hide your wife, hide your kids” kind of weird. Add a child? BOOM, total “awwww” moment. I like to dig in sand. I like to build things. Totally too self-conscious. Now? Hello sand, here I come.

I think all this, and then I pause. Am I attempting to live vicariously through my child? Am I using him for my own enjoyment? Am I a horrible, selfish person?


Excuse me, I’m off to pull my old Star Wars figs out of storage. Because I have a child.

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