Childish Things

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. – 1 Corinthians 13:11-12

“It’s Christmas!”

I press myself up from the sensible mattress. The impression of my 42-year-old form marks a crime-scene chalk outline for a brief moment, until the NASA-designed foam releases that shade of Julian Murdoch into the ether. I can feel last night in my lower back — too many hours hunched over, sitting on the floor, wrapping presents and watching Dr. Who. By tradition, I head downstairs first while the kids sit on the stairwell, out of sight of the Christmas tree. I turn on the coffee maker. I turn on the tree lights.

“Santa came!” I cry out in my most enthusiastic dad-voice, a tone reserved not just for children, but specifically for my children in moments when I’m channeling Ward Cleaver.

Small feet rattle the house. I hug the kids as they race by. They’re warm in their matching pajamas, wide eyed and full of animal glee.

The coffee is sour.

By 10AM, all the presents are open, the garbage collected. It’s a good Christmas. I’ve had Nerf battles and played Lego Indiana Jones 2 for half an hour with my son. I’ve read the book of poems my daughter wrote. I’ve started work on a massive Lego TIE Fighter.

But sitting there on the old, tired, blue-and-white striped couch, as I start thinking about what to make the kids for lunch, I am filled with loss and resentment.

On this holiest of days, a day which holds genuine spiritual meaning for me, a day in which the secular world glorifies childhood, I am overwhelmed by Grinchian Scroogemongering.

Not because the day isn’t wonderful (it is). Not because it’s overly commercial (ours wasn’t). Not because I don’t love my family with every fiber of my being (I do, and do, and do).

But because Christmas is no longer mine — it’s theirs.

Here’s the dirty little secret of being a parent — it implies being a grownup. And being a grownup often sucks. I’m quite good at avoiding it, honestly. I’ve spent most of my life driving a not-too-hidden Peter Pan agenda, one in which I get to live where I want, how I want, doing work I want to do, playing games, buying toys and avoiding unnecessary responsibility. I’ve managed to raise my children, so far, in harmony with my own love for play. I have indeed managed to indoctrinate my children with those things I love so that I might fulfill my own childlike desires alongside them.

But increasingly, it seems I’m forced into a box. In the box, I experience vicarious pleasure, rather than being a collaborator in my children's play. In the box, I'm responsible for building and tweaking and otherwise owning the new computer on which my daughter will play Wizard 101, while I haven't made my weekly World of Warcraft group in a month. And yes, I am bitter.

It’s smelly and hard and uncomfortable in this box. I sit on the discarded pieces of a Lego X-Wing I built "for Peter" last year. The sharp bits dig into my skin, small and irretrievably separated from the awesome that was the completed Rebel fighter just 12 months ago. Its wings went to make dollhouse furniture last summer.

I don’t fit in this box. I don’t like it. But there's absolutely no question that I constructed it, piece by piece, out of willpower and furious intent. I've carefully molded my children's loves and desires to hew close to my own, and now that they're old enough to have filled out the edges of the world I've shown them, I am green-eyed and sore as they expand into it, leaving me with the mortgage and the taxes and the health insurance forms.

This is an ugly, selfish feeling. I imagine sitting in first-century Corinth, reading the Apostle Paul’s epistle, and shaking my fist, cursing Paul for telling me to behave like a grownup. It seems, at that moment, that Paul would do well to go suck an egg.

I keep this to myself, of course. I bury the id as I have so many times in my life. Not to do so is to walk down a path of personal anarchy, one which leads directly away from the man whom I've spent 42 years getting to know, and whose birthday I am celebrating.

Tomorrow will be another day. I will wake up, and I will revel in the good around me. I will love my kids, and my kids will love me back. I will share joy in their discoveries.

I will be a good father.

And if I ever insinuate that this is an easy choice, call me a liar.

Comments

I know it's not really what your post is about, but it's refreshing to read someone in the game writing industry who isn't afraid to admit to their beliefs. And I don't know if you get much "h8" about it, but here's kudos from me.

Loved it. I'm not there yet but your sentiments are something I kind of dread. You can't be a man-child around children and I'm too fond of being a kid to let it go so easy. Deep down I know I want to. Just... not yet, not yet!

Sometimes it so does feel like a box, and to paraphrase, despite all our rage we're still just a rat in a cage.

While I have yet to make the massive sacrifice of time and energy and ego that having children involves (though I eventually will, it has been planned), I have learned, in miniature, the hard lesson of growing up that you describe. Marriage and career and aging parents all play their part.

I just wrote a long, philosophically dubious post, so I'll delete it and leave it at this.

Part of the trade-off we, as older (some would say adult) gamers, experience is the loss of barriers to our hobby.

Since we work, we can buy ourselves that PS3 or $300 video card. We can camp out and wait for whatever game has our gamersense a-tingling. In fact, we can splurge in an unrestrained deluge of game bliss.

But on days we used to hold as special -- birthdays, graduations, holidays -- there's just a bit less magic waiting for us in those colorfully wrapped boxes.

I admit, there are deep pangs of "this is it?" when I open clothing on days I should be getting Mario Bros. games. If I had kids around me getting playsets and lego models and their first big gaming system, I'd probably go mad with jealousy.

I always enjoy your stories Rabbit and this time is no different. I felt a bit of a connection with you this time though as I had many of the same feelings watching my 2 children open their gifts. Seeing my daughter open her new DS and her excitement made me think back and miss those days. The anticipation of opening presents, and then playing board games all day with my family or plunking down for hours in front of a new video game. Nowadays, if I don't get what I wanted, I'll just go buy it. No big deal. The anticipation is gone. As far as playing games all day, I certainly can't do that with a daughter of 5 and 2 year old. I mostly miss the board games. All of my siblings have grown up and have their own families to watch after so nobody has the time. We still get together to exchange gifts or have Christmas dinner, but it's just not the same. I still love Christmas and love seeing how much fun my kids have. But I do miss that little bit of magic and anticipation.

You're a good man, rabbit. And kudos to you taking even vicarious pleasure. It is still pleasure after all. Are you still DMing for them and their friends?

Mike wrote:

I know it's not really what your post is about, but it's refreshing to read someone in the game writing industry who isn't afraid to admit to their beliefs. And I don't know if you get much "h8" about it, but here's kudos from me.

Ditto to what Mike said.
Thanks for sharing. I see where you are coming from.
This Christmas was different for us since this is the first one that both kids didn't believe in Santa (daughter 13, son 9). They both knew most of what they were getting and my wife and I had no real surprises for each other as well...it is hard when you both shop Amazon.com under the same account
I think we are going to try and have more surprises and anticipation next year in order to try and recapture some of the magic and nostalgia of those early days. We could all probably do better if we start watching A Christmas Story every week starting in October...just to jump start us.

Props to you, Rabbit. I know I'm not there yet - I have seen the box, I have witnessed friends choose to make it their's. I'm just not ready. Pray I can take it all as well as you seem to.

Be optimistic: by the time you get to be grandfather, you'll have years of things like you described under your belt. You'll be more than used to the box. On the other hand, your children you'll be total noobs and you'll get to give them a big grin with "well, it sure sucks, doesn't it?" written all over it.

Ah, revenge. And so the cycle continues. Hehehe!

I believe your message has come through loud and clear. I can relate. From a games perspective it has been a bit sad because I now watch my son play an RPGs. He tells me his strategies for accomplishing a certain task with all kinds of joy. It is amazing because 90% of what he says I remember telling him as he watched me play RPGs.

(I was trying to do more research on the quoted passage because I don't have a clue as to what the second half of it says or means. I found it in 1 Corinthians 13-11 King James Bible version.)

Rebuild that X-Wing sometime.

I can certainly relate to this article. My son is not quite two, so I still get to mirror his childhood and remember my own. I know that this time will pass one day.

Terrific read, My kids are younger but ditto here. While I do miss the rampant anticipation of Christmas, there is something special about seeing that joy in your children's eyes.

Make time for that WoW group! If you aren't adamant about making time for yourself, your kids will gleefully steal every waking moment.

Great article, I relate completely. I enjoy watching the kids on Christmas, but for me and my wife there is simply no magic left. (I guess the magic really started leaving when I started working retail after high school, but that's a whole other story). We put up the decorations, buy the presents, go through the whole Santa routine (even though our oldest at 10 knows better) - but it is a mechanical process of going through the motions. The prevalent thought is "did we do good enough? Will they like what we got? Are we making good memories for them?" My wife is ready to take down the tree the day after. After a solid two months of planning, we are tired of it all and ready for a sense of normalcy to return.

If you had a Russian essay writer do these articles for you, rabbit, you'd have more time for playing games. Plus you could inflict multiple heart attacks on poor wordy.

Just sayin'.

Visited my girlfriend's family for Christmas this year. Nephews and nieces all got rad toys, and since everyone else in the family is oldballs and 'mature', uncle Clemens got to be the one to play with all the new goodies. I always feel sad seeing kids who've got loads of toys on Christmas morning, but nobody wants to share and play with them. Adults can be way too serious sometimes.

Here’s the dirty little secret of being a parent — it implies being a grownup. And being a grown up often sucks.

I experience vicarious pleasure

My son is only 5 months old and I'm already experiencing this.

Good article rabbit.

Continuing the aside:

Mike wrote:

I know it's not really what your post is about, but it's refreshing to read someone in the game writing industry who isn't afraid to admit to their beliefs. And I don't know if you get much "h8" about it, but here's kudos from me.

Eh? He mentioned in passing that Christmas has spiritual meaning for him past the secular, and quoted something from Corinthians. I'm not sure what "hate" you would expect from that. (I refuse to use your silly abbreviation.)

Let me be clear: I am a strident atheist. I believe in the material world, and I believe that theists are just plain wrong (as they believe me to be). I believe my position is justifiable on the basis of evidence (as they do) and I hope more people adopt my stance (as they do). But I have absolutely no problem with Rabbit or anyone else having spiritual or religious beliefs. Much less problem than I might have with the way they vote, or the way they fail to support the right lane in Demigod. Sure, I think he's wrong, but so what? That's no reason to "hate".

This notion that religion is publicly frowned upon is ridiculous to the extreme. Indeed, it is usually public atheism that is much less respected.

My own box is in full production; I predict the walls will be very high and close indeed. Kate is only two, but more and more I find myself checking my interests and exchanging what was once my free time in order to play with her, talk with her, show her the world.

I glance at my big box of the new Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay (i've run a handful of short sessions). I look guiltily at my collection of games; Dragon Age, Fallout 3, Endeavor, Tide of Iron. I listen covetously to the podcast and wonder how in the hell you all find time to play as many games as you do. I envy the children on my street for their summer and holiday breaks largely free to game and explore and play.

But all of that angst and jealousy and frustration at not having enough time recedes utterly when I see my daughter smile at me. I very much want to be the father I never had, and that means bearing the responsibilities and seceding much of my own time to make sure she's loved totally.

Good read Rabbit.

Awesome piece, my brother. I'm touched.

I had thought to post a long and rambling philosophical reply about God's will subsuming our fallen nature and our kids' ability to show us the kingdom of God... but it's early and I'm at work.

So instead, allow me to do everyone a favor and shorten it to, "Hear, hear!".

You've just summed up my feelings after 16 months of fatherhood in a way I never really could express.

It feels good to hear somebody else say it, as I crawl around on my hands and knees hunting in vain for my Hellboy figure's lost gun. Last I saw, the boy had it. "Don't touch! That's not a toy!"

"Wait..." another voice in my head responds: "It IS a toy!"

"Yes, but not the kind you play with."

"Huh?"

I know I'll never find that plastic pistol again, but I keep on lookin'.

Nicely done on the article ... I don't mean to presume but I get the impression that your wife shares some of your interests so your box isn't as lonely as it could be. An example of this ... I like to get Warhammer miniatures, board games, video games, books, ... etc for gifts. My wife has her birthday tomorrow and she is torn between a new rug or some other things for the house. Not only must I sacrifice most, if not all, of my free time to be the upstanding family man that I am but I must also feel shame the few times I do want something for myself. I have to remind myself that I live pretty Spartan compared to my wife (pedicures, massages, hair, decorating the house, eating out, ...etc ) so it isn't so bad. But when a man has to fight with his kid's over who gets to play Zelda on the DS then ... well ... it just isn't fair.

Wasn't Christmas adapted from Pagan festivals? I mean, not to undermine whatever personal significance you might find in it, but don't most scholars agree Jesus wasn't born in December?

Actually, the movement of the various Christian holidays around the holiday was generally designed to keep the early followers from being prosecuted, but in this case, the 25th of December wasn't really codified until (working from memory) until 200-300 AD. The highest likelihood is also that he was born in springtime, several years earlier than 1AD, as Herod was supposedly still alive (and we have evidence that Herod died 1-3 BC somewhere). Again, working without a net.

The history of times, places and documents in religion is something I've long been fascinated with, and not something that really makes one Iota of a difference to me philosophically or spiritually.

Another great article. At the start of my daughters life, I was struggling mightily as I saw the walls of my personal box becoming solid and the foundations laid down. It took me quite awhile to love my situation and realize how much I was gaining for the little that I gave up.

Fredrik_S wrote:

It took me quite awhile to love my situation and realize how much I was gaining for the little that I gave up.

1) Slave
2) Future Cash Cow

Another great article, rabbit.

For us grown-ups, Valve is our Santa.

I know the feeling of being caught in life's rhythm as one grows older and responsibility stacks up. Funny, though, I feel no envy or begrudge my kids' relatively carefree lives. I enjoy their happiness so much that it totally undermines whatever other feelings might arise in me at the time.

For the past 5 christmases I've been too busy with children and familial obligations too enjoy any other way than vicariously when it comes to the joy of receiving and playing. What gifts I receive I dote on momentarily, making sure I convey the joy they bring to those who so thoughtfully procured them for me, then I set them aside to enjoy at a later time - usually days after - when I am not playing with my children and being a responsible parent.

I've already indoctrinated my step-son into the world of gaming, I'm now slowly working my way into my daughter's mind with Mario and the like. Little by little, as I want her to stay an active child. By and by, as they say.

Great piece, by the way.

rabbit wrote:

Actually, the movement of the various Christian holidays around the holiday was generally designed to keep the early followers from being prosecuted, but in this case, the 25th of December wasn't really codified until (working from memory) until 200-300 AD. The highest likelihood is also that he was born in springtime, several years earlier than 1AD, as Herod was supposedly still alive (and we have evidence that Herod died 1-3 BC somewhere). Again, working without a net.

The history of times, places and documents in religion is something I've long been fascinated with, and not something that really makes one Iota of a difference to me philosophically or spiritually.

Right, and just because Jesus may not have been born on the 25th itself doesn't mean you can't celebrate the birth then.

Also, forgot to mention: great article!