Being me

Quote of the day: If it's not difficult, it's usually not worth doing.

Being a father is the most difficult task in the world. Obviously. I've had better luck trying to build a gaming computer after reading a few articles on how to build a gaming computer. You apparently glue some things together and twist a few knobs somewhere else. So I built one. It worked. It never once blew up in a fiery inferno leaving me very, very dead as expected by my wife. After three years, when I was ready to sell it, she finally felt comfortable she could play on it too. But I was busy planning the build for my next machine.

But being a father, that requires a whole different level of competency that no amount of articles or Youtube videos will provide.  For starters, you need to plan that everything you have always been, will come back at you. Sure, if you've been cool, smart, funny, that's all okay. But if you were a little… difficult, then that will come back in the shape of your kid. And that will not always be funny.

Being a father means bonding. Fifty years ago, fathers bonded by telling their kids to be either quiet or to go conquer the world without disturbing them. These days, it's about smartphones and Xbox-es. I got those covered. My kid, at almost three, knows the basics of an Xbox. I just have to teach him how to say that to his grandmother a million times. Or just once. And I will have an Xbox. To bond with my son obviously.

Being a father also means sometimes, it will break your heart. Many times over in fact. My kid runs to me to ask me about cars and bugs. He has excitement and expectation in his eyes. They glitter with a fascination that you cannot let die. There's nothing more important than to answer his questions. I know my father still never tells me later when I ask a question. Except you can't help feel that nagging feeling that my little boy will grow up one day, very, very quickly. And he will become a busy young man. And it scares me. But for now, I answer his questions, teach him how to hold a lizard without hurting it, teach him how to show a lizard to his mother and scare the living daylights out of her. I paint his toycars to make them look new. I sometimes let him play with my car models. I secretly walk in the rain with him when his mother isn't around worrying about illness. We blow spit bubbles together.

It's not easy being a father, but why would I have it any other way?