The Perks of being a Parent

Outside of the obvious joys of bringing life into the world, there are a few additional perks that come with being a parent.  For example:

• You can use your kids as an excuse to get out of almost anything.
• Late night work session?  I can't, sorry, kids.  
• You can live vicariously through your kids.
• Watching kids sing, dance, or play soccer, I think to myself...  "If I would have sung, danced, or played soccer, I would have been amazing!"
• Our schedules are intertwined with our kid's schedules.  
• Snow days are back!
• Kids think parents are amazing specimens of human achievement.
• Apparently, one kid thinks I'm 14 feet tall and strong as a bull.  That's a pretty healthy ego boost.

I promise, I won't put this on the internet

One of the perks I find extremely enjoyable is a kid's undying trust in their parents.  Parents know the answer to every question.  Kids will jump through the air with full faith that their parents will catch them.  Parents can heal boo-boos with a kiss.  Parents are the end all be all for kids.  It is a very powerful position we parents are put in.

Some parents do everything to ensure this trust is maintained.  I, on the other hand, often find myself using this trust for personal pleasure.  I want the kids to think of me as an enigma.  Jump, I say.  Don't worry, I'll catch you.  They hold fast and stare at me with uncertainty.  Am I telling the truth?  Do they dare trust me?  Will I catch them?  Who knows.  Jump and find out.

For now, they still jump.  And, I still catch them... literally.  Figuratively, however, this is not always the case.  I pull one over on them whenever I have the chance.  For instance, last year, a golden opportunity falls in my lap.  We're at the farm.  It's late in the evening.  We've spent the day hunting birds and rabbits with BB guns.  As the day is winding down, a brilliant idea rims off in my head.  It's such a devious thought, I just stand there doing a Mr. Burns impression.  Snipe hunting.  They've never been and I'm going to teach them.  Below is the account of the kid's first snipe hunting expedition.

The hunting process was explained like this:  Snipe only come out at night.  A party of hunters (the kids), arm themselves with BB guns and a flashlight, then form a wall in the dark.  Another party of herders (the parents), approach the wall from a distance and slowly scare the snipe toward the wall by whispering "snipe, snipe, snipe...."  The snipe instinctively run away from the call, towards the hunter's wall.  When the snipe get close enough, the hunter party shines a flashlight on the snipe, freezing them in their tracks.  The statuesque snipe are blasted to oblivion by spring loaded BB guns.  Finally, we spend 10 minutes reviewing the proper grip one uses, when simultaneously manning a flashlight and BB gun.  They're ready.

The trap is set.  The kids are in position.  They can't wait to catch some snipe.  They hold fast with their much rehearsed grips.  They stand silently... in the dark.  Grandpa and I grin at each other.  We walk out of sight, whisper out a few simple words (snipe, snipe, snipe...), then head toward the house.  Once inside, we mix some drinks and pat ourselves on the back.  Well done.

We'll eat for weeks on the snipe these kids catch.

Five minutes later, the mothers in the room are freaking out.  They're worried about their babies outside, in the dark, alone.  Another ten minutes go by without a peep.  Finally, the confused (and previously scared) kids start filing into the house.  What's amazing is that they are still not hip to the prank just played on them.  The house is filled with confusion.  Why did you guys go inside?  How come you didn't say "snipe, snipe, snipe...?"  We were waiting for the snipe to come, but we didn't see any...

I'm torn.  Do I tell them?  Okay, fine.  I let them in on it.  Strangely, the boys still don't know what to believe.  You see, I'm an enigma.  They don't know if I'm telling the truth now, or if I was earlier.  Lissy makes the decision in no time.  She's figured it out.  She's all over me.  "You're a liar!", she repeats.  Jack and Ashton stay on the fence.  I break out the internet and try to put this to rest.

The boys still want to believe so bad.  I'm telling them it's a prank, but they don't want to hear it.  They have their little hearts set on gunning down some snipe.  I decide to change my tune a bit.  The prank is back on.  Round two.  It turns out the internet starts providing valuable intel on snipe hunting (Use a bag to catch them, they flock towards bodies of water, etc...)   Lissy's even getting in on it.  These boys are so confused.  Check out the video below, where Lissy and I try to setup tomorrow's snipe hunt.

See what I mean?  How can anything be better than your child's trust?