It is every parent's desire that their children will have a better life than they did. (Mostly, this is to ensure they will be able to support us when we retire.)
But when that desire becomes reality, well...I'm not as convinced.
My oldest boy concerns me. I taught him to play chess, and already he is proving to be quite a contender. He hasn't beat me yet...but he's only eight, and I'm not sure how much longer I can hold him off.
Then, there are the video games. I have trouble remembering that the A button means jump, and the S button means shoot or throw or punch. They play games where you have umpteen different key combinations without any trouble. When my boys and I would sit down to play video games together, at first I was the one paving the way, revealing new moves, new levels. They would be excited for me. Now?
"Look, Dad! We're on level nine on Spider-Man!"
Nine? I barely made it to level two.
I've had no choice but to stop playing video games with them.
And now...and now...
I gave him A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Second two days ago. He started reading at 9:00 pm. He finished it at 11:30 pm that same night. Next day, he did the same with another book.
Me? Well, I started reading a new book a week ago. I'm to page 60.
Yeah. Well. I can drive, and he can't. (For now.) And I'm taller. (For now.)
