by Richard
If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a parent, it’s that there are a number of different ways to cheat. And the good thing is, provided you have enough advance warning, you can actually argue a coherent case that you weren’t cheating.
It’s tough trying to stay one step ahead of your little dudes as they grow into not-so-little dudes.
Now, I’m not advocating that you go out there and start whupping up on your little dudes just to prove what a big man you are. That would be stupid. However, if you get challenged, you do want to provide a good showing for yourself.
Or at least make it look like a good showing and, really, appearance is half the battle.
Take for instance, say (pulling something out of my hat here) skeet shooting.
See, my two oldest little dudes, George of the Jungle and Zippy the Monkey Boy, are (I’m guessing rightly) proud of their prowess in the whole first-person shooter genre of video games. I did try to hang with them once or twice and got laughed off the battlefield. By my own team. It was not a pretty sight. Even in war time.
Anyway.
I was in Dallas visiting one side of my family and the little dudes and I were invited out to do some skeet shooting. Skeet shooting with actual shotguns, with actual shells and suchlike. The little dudes, as is their wont, made the whole thing a contest. Of course, they were confident in their ability to shoot the little orange clay thingy out of the sky. And, based on my previous experience with first-person shooters, contemptuous of my own chances.
The first couple of rounds, we were all basically the same — horrible. The third round, though, the little dudes started hitting the clay. George of the Jungle even hit two out of four. Not bad.
Then, it was my turn. I stepped up and blasted three out of four. And that’s where I decided to do a little cheating. Basically, I reordered the goals of the contest my little dudes had started. I decided that I was done and would not compete any more, letting the little dudes continue on their own.
I sat on the sidelines, ignoring their pleas for me to get back into the game. Nope. I figured I’d get out while the getting was good. I knew I wasn’t going to do any better and I was betting the little dudes couldn’t either. Turns out I was right.
Thanks to a little judicial massaging of the time of the contest, I came out looking pretty darn good. And I’ll take that every chance I get. Because there aren’t going to be too many more chances for that.
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