Family Fridays, Vol. 2: Just like daddy? I sure hope so
OPINION: My kids lucked out in the dad department, so hopefully, they’re able to inherit some of my innate awesomeness.
My family’s amazing, and I’m in my family, so according to the transitive law, I’m amazing. And you know what, I’d have to agree. I mean that objectively, too. If I were to take a step back and look at myself from a distance, I’d probably be like, “buddy right there? Amazeballs.”
Sho’nuff.
Well, I’m a parent, which means I have kids. And since I’m so amazing, I’m really, really hoping that all of that trickles down to my descendants, especially the immediate ones. Now, I do have to point out that the four that I have are pretty gosh darn cool already. Kids are fun, and the opportunity to observe little people who took your genes is always amusing. Just this afternoon, one of my kids decided to place himself entirely inside of a vinyl shopping back. Why? I have no idea, and I’d bet he doesn’t either, but he did it, and once he was satisfied with his accomplishment, he moved on to something else. I started to ask him why he was engaging in such an endeavor, but I realized in that moment that if I asked, it might throw him off track and then we’d both miss out on this glory.
And this was before he and his brother decided to watch the 1990 version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which spurred them into action as ninjas, and you can imagine how that went. Nothing was broken that I’m aware of, but it’s coming…oh yeah, it’s coming. And my oldest, my daughter, is a magician already. Like a real one. And she can create entire huge balloon displays with her bare hands.
My kids, yeah, they won, but so did I. Woo-ha, we got you all in check.
Anyway, the point of all this sharing is to say that I sure do hope my kids inherit or learn some of the things that make Daddy (me) such a wonderful role model in addition to their own awesomeness. I reckon most parents want their kids to take on some of their cool, and trust me, I’m no different. What do I hope they inherit? I’m glad you asked. Here are a few things:
My spades acumen, which is gorgeous
For starters, my kids will ALL know how to play spades before they get to their respective HBCUs. But it isn’t enough to just be able to play spades; they need to be monsters on the table, taking no prisoners, playing to win at all costs. And they ALSO must have impeccable card-spinning technique and skills, just like their daddy. I make that thang spin, baby. And my kids must, too.
My taste in music, which is to die for
So, I’m already trying to turn my kids into music snobs. Also, I don’t apologize for this one bit. When we’re not rocking out to “We Don’t Talk about Bruno,” we’re rocking some Fela or Janet Jackson in the car. I also play a shit-ton of oldies when I’m able. And not just oldies, but like the oldies that created the sound beds for some of the most iconic hip-hop songs. I am slowly working jazz into the equation, too. And because I think it’s especially important to ensure that my kids take no prisoners when it comes to this music game, I’m working on a presentation to introduce them to “Return of The Mack.” No music education is complete without the greatest song of all time.
My sneaker game, which is on a hundred, thousand, trillion
Lowkey, I’m looking forward to the days when my kids can wear my shoes. I’m hoping that the boys look at a pair of my Jordan 1s and want to go to school and stunt on everybody in some deadstock 2016 joints that illustrate just how hard they’re pushin’ P. Ya dig? One of my kids is already heavily into sneakers. He likes to pick out his own shoes and has some pretty discerning taste. Sure, this will be an expensive problem when he gets older, but I mean, talk about your happy problems.
My Black pop culture reference game, which is *chef’s kiss*
I really, really want my kids to be able to remember Fred Sanford’s son’s name on immediate recall and know when it is an appropriate time to yell out, “THEY KILLED CORNBREAD!” Also, I need them to know that Nathan and Wanya Morris from Boyz II Men aren’t brothers, something I didn’t know until I was 41 years old. But I hope they know how to deploy old movie and television lines and understand when to start stories with “what had happened was…”
My love for reading, which is splendiferous
I really do love me a good book, and I hope they also have that same energy. My daughter already loves to read, and the boys, who are honing their reading skills right now, seem to really like books in general. So I think we’re gonna be good money here. Win, win, win, win.
What do you hope your kids inherit from you?
Panama Jackson is a columnist at theGrio. He writes very Black things and drinks very brown liquors, and is pretty fly for a light guy. His biggest accomplishment to date coincides with his Blackest accomplishment to date in that he received a phone call from Oprah Winfrey after she read one of his pieces (biggest) but he didn’t answer the phone because the caller ID said “Unknown” (Blackest).
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