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by Phil Stott
About a month ago, my brother-in-law sent me a video of his
four-year-old son's first touchdown in a flag football game. It's remarkable in
several ways: first, that my nephew seems to understand the purpose of the game
at such a young age-when he gets the ball in his own half of the field his
first instinct is to head for the opposition end zone. Second: he understood
that once he crossed the end zone line, he could stop running. And, third, he
threw a proper football pass to the referee when returning the ball. A couple
of weeks later, as if to prove it was no fluke, he did it again, and my
brother-in-law again captured the evidence on video. Clearly he's a boy who's
going to grow up loving his sport, and perhaps even has a natural aptitude for
it.
All well and good, I thought. As someone who loves sport
myself (albeit the other kind of "football"), I can remember the
point in my childhood where I became infatuated with it-and it's lasted to this
day. Becoming obsessed by a sport is a pleasure that, while not unique to boys,
certainly seems to be more common among them-at least in my experience. Seeing
that bloom in my nephew is a heart-warming thing, and I was happy both for him
and his Dad, who is perhaps the quintessential jock-one that, to be honest, I
don't know would have been able to relate to a son that didn't play sports.
My happiness for them both lasted approximately a week-right
up until I read this
disturbing piece on pro football in the New
Yorker. While the premise of the piece is to present a parallel between
football and dogfighting-a case that rests on a link between
"gameness" in fighting dogs that keep coming back for more to please
their owners and the culture in football of playing through pain, even to the
detriment of your long-term wellbeing-the most disturbing evidence it offers is
on the prevalence of serious brain injuries among ex football players.
Sure, the piece mainly details autopsy results of guys who
have made the pros, therefore subjecting themselves to many more hits to the
head-and at greater speeds from bigger guys-than someone who only plays through
high school, but the evidence is frightening nonetheless. Guys in their forties
showing symptoms of Alzheimer's disease normally seen only in the very elderly-the
likely cause: brain damage from too many hits. The brain of an eighteen
year-old who had "been playing football for a couple of years" with
the kind of damage not normally seen in someone at 50, much less his own age.
There's obviously a long way between a fledgling love affair
with flag football and taking recurring hits with the force of a car crash, but
nonetheless the article left me concerned about my nephew. After all, I became
obsessed with soccer at a very young age, and am still playing the game over a
quarter of a century later (and, yes, typing that does make me feel very, very
old)-who's to say he's not going to do the same with football? Even if he
doesn't, even if he only plays until the end of high school, the evidence in
the New Yorker piece suggests he's
still got a better than average chance of sustaining some sort of damage to his
brain from all the collisions.
Given all of that, then, it makes me wonder: is there anyone
out there who's happy that their
kid's playing football? And if so, why?
by Brian McGovern
Searching for a fascinating hobby that you can share with
your child? Looking for a hobby that can help your child develop social skills and
may promote a strong desire to read?
The hobby of magic can do wonders to promote an outgoing
personality even among the shyest children. When a child learns how to impress
other kids with amazing magic it gives them more self-confidence.
As your child's desire to master magic grows you'll be happy
to find that he or she will be eager to read books and magazines about the
topic. There's always more to learn.
The art of magic is a perfect hobby to share with kids. Children are fascinated by magic and any
father who can do a few cool tricks is one cool dad indeed. Here's a stunt that
will amaze and amuse that doesn't take a lot of practice.
The French Drop
Here's an easy bit of sleight of hand that you can use to
vanish coins, balls or other small items. Give this a little practice and
you'll be able to make things disappear and reappear like magic.
Hold the object between your thumb and index finger of your
palm up left hand. Move your palm down right hand towards the object. You're
going to move your right thumb right underneath the object. (see youtube video here)
You're going to pretend to take the object into your right
hand. What really happens is you let the object fall into the palm of your left
hand. Let the object fall into your hand just as you pretend to take it away.
Practice doing this in a mirror to make sure that no one can see the object in
your palm.
Hold your right hand as if it really contains the object. If
you're pretending to hold a ping-pong ball make sure your hand is not held
flat. Let your fingers bulge as if they really held the ball. Stare at the right hand
with intensity. All your focus must be on the hand that allegedly contains an
object. Your audience will naturally look in the same direction as you do so
don't peek at your left hand.
Move your right hands up and down as you wiggle your thumb
and fingers. While your audience is distracted by this motion let your left
hand drop to your side. Make a slow tossing motion with your right hand and
pretend to follow the object as it vanishes in mid air.
Pause for a beat and reproduce the object from your pocket
or from behind someone's ear or even your nose. Practice this stunt in the
mirror for a few minutes and you've got a trick you can use when ever you want
to create a bit of fun.
Magic kits make a great birthday gift. Be sure the tricks it
contains are appropriate for the age of your child. Encourage your child to
practice and rehearse before they try to trick their friends.
Give it a try! You may really enjoy taking your child to
magic shows, visiting magic shops and even attending conventions and lectures
sponsored by local magic clubs.
Hijinx is a professional magician
in New York.
by Phil Stott
So
last Friday saw one of the best things I've read about parenting recently come
to a close: Slate's Freaky Fortnight
feature. The basic premise of the feature was that a Slate editor, Michael
Agger, would switch roles with his wife, Susan Burton, for two weeks. In short,
she would do his job while he stayed home in Brooklyn
and took care of the kids. Both then blogged about the experience, and also put
regular updates on Twitter.
Of
the two, it's perhaps not surprising that I enjoyed Agger's posts more-mostly
because I found them informative in many ways on the whole question of being a
Dad who works. Over the course of the two weeks, he covered a whole range of
issues, but I was hooked when he began his first post with the following quote:
"My oldest son is
4, so it's a little early to tell how much fatherhood has changed me, but I
have noticed two things. I stopped moping. (There's not enough time.) And I
really, really love the office." It's hard not to get hooked, I suppose,
when someone is willing to be so honest about their experiences-and doubly so
when the words he's writing put my own thoughts into words.
Actually, that's what I most enjoyed
about the two weeks of blog postings: the fact that both writers-but Agger in
particular-seemed to keep putting my thoughts on the parenting thing into
words. As a writer, I'll put my hand up and say that it's kind of humiliating
to be beaten to so many punches, but I've always believed that the best thing
to do when you find someone who does something better than you is to pass it on
to others. (Plus, I'm consoling myself with the thought that because they only
had a two-week assignment-and a fairly intense experience to base their writing
on-they're mining a rich vein that gets harder to sustain the longer you write
about it.)
Anyway, in that spirit, here
are a couple of my favorite observations from Agger's posts over the two weeks.
Each of them struck me as having distilled a basic truth about the art of being
a Dad in this day and age.
Apologies to both Slate and Michael Agger for basically stealing your work for this post, but as I said before, I'm a big believer in giving credit where it's due. (Burton is also due a whole bunch, but my appreciation for her has to be limited to silent applause given her lack of dad-ness!) And, just to prove that I'm not some mere plagiarist, here's the link one more time. Click it-I promise you'll find something you like.
(Image: Slate.com)
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Hence if you post to @twitterdads then it will be archived here and will be posted on the twittterdads status page such that every one who follows the group get the updates.
So you just have to use twitter as
Posted by Super Papa on September 20, 2008 at 8:30pm — 1 Comment
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a network for Dads on Twitter, (similar to what the Moms have with http://www.twittermoms.com/ )
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