You know that scene from epic guy movies where a muscular
hero wipes out an invading horde of bad guys with like a butter knife, and then
he’s standing there surveying the carnage, and says in a deep, gravelly voice,
“My father taught me that duty and honor are more important than anything”?
Well, as a father of two impressionable young boys that I would love to raise
to be epic heroes someday, what I want to know is how do I get that deep,
gravelly voice? I mean, how cool would it be to teach a kid to tie his shoes,
and then tell him in a deep, gravelly voice, “Son, always remember that the
rabbit goes around the bush and then into its hole.” He’d never forget that
lesson. At the same time, I’d also like to know when those lessons about duty
and honor are supposed to be worked into the conversation.
I thought I’d
discovered the perfect opportunity a few days ago when my kids were playing
outside, and my youngest son began to cry because he’d fallen off his bike.
(It’s about three inches from his seat to the ground, so why this is cause for
tears is beyond me, but we must be sensitive, mustn’t we?) Anyway, the exchange
that followed went like this:
Me (After clearing my throat repeatedly in search of my best
James Earl Jones voice): “Son, going to aid your brother in his time of need
would be honorable.”
Six-year-old: “Daddy, you sound funny.”
That went well. At some point I should probably consider the
wisdom of trying to model my parenting techniques after the fictional fathers
of half-naked male characters from guy movies who spend their time eviscerating
their foes and sharpening their butter knives. That deep, gravelly voice on the
other hand…maybe I’ll find something for that in my spam folder.
