This is an ongoing series by a bunch of cool Moms and Dads called Fatherhood Friday. Check out Dad Blogs for more details and more great reading.
As the kids and I are “lazying” (new word) on the sofa one afternoon (it was probably a Sunday afternoon, I was teaching them the important Man Skill called “The Art of The Nap”. As they” lazyed” (another word I made up) on either side of me, The Boy looks up at me admiringly (because, you know, I’m his hero 
) and says,
“Dad…you’re OLD.”
What the heck brought THAT on?
“What, son?” I asked. Somewhat amazed by his boldness. But he is my son.
“You have a whole lot of gray hair in your beard,” he says.
Bae, my “pre-teen” princess looks up and says sternly to her brother, “Daddy’s not old. He’s just a stunning specimen of a man (okay…I made that part up. You get the point. She was sticking up for her old man daddy.)” She looks at me for a reaction because she, too, has mastered the Art of the Butter-Up long ago. She is where most of my money goes.
I “expalin” (was that last word a typo or a Freudian slip?)…anyway…another story for another time.
… explained to my son that, although I am getting older, it does not mean I am old. As people get older people change in different ways. I simply look at it as a new kind of cool.
But he’s not hearing it. His confidence is growing by the second. “I bet I can beat you running!”
Huh?!? Little Dude is feeling his oats.
“You think so?” I asked him as sardonically as I could. “Son, I wanna take a nap. Maybe you should, too.”
“Yeah,” he says, not experienced enough to know when to quit while he’s ahead, “With you being so old and your broken ankle from last year, I think can beat you.” He is experienced enough to know how to egg me on.
Oh. No. He. DIDN’T. Did my boy just call me a punk? Of course he didn’t, but he was calling me out.
“Dude. Let’s go do this.”
We go to the front of the house and onto the street. Bae, giddy with excitement, yells upstairs to her mom, “Daddy and The Boy are about to race! “We decide to run the equivalent of about two houses. Maybe 100 ft or so. Bae starts the count.
“Ready.”
“Set.”
“GO!”
The next thing I remember is looking at him saying,
“YEAAAAAH, Boy! IN. YOUR. FACE! HA HAAA! I’m old , huh? Thought you said you could beat me! Yeah!”
I know. I know. I shouldn’t gloat. I should be trying to find some lesson to teach him (oh, yeah. I did teach him a lesson).
Lessoned Learned? Old people are cranky.
Mr. Man
