Howdy, neighbor! It's me. Brian. Tysdaddy to you Twittering types. Around these parts, I am sometimes known by my blog name, The Cheek of God. Or you may recognize my avatar. Affectionately known as Balding Old Man With Mustache.Whatever. I'm the guy that used to write here quite a bit and then up and vanished like a fart in the wind. (And ten bucks to the one who gets that movie reference, without using Google . . . ) But it's a new year, and like Frankenstein's monster, "It's ALIVE!!!!!"
Or something like that.
To my Mars homeys . . . Word! And I must say that the Venus ladies are looking as lovely as ever.
Speaking of lovelies, have you ever noticed how much this lady . . .
. . . and our gracious and wonderful host . . .
. . . look so much alike?! I triple dog dare ya to watch one of those commercials and NOT think of Shelle. Just sayin's all!
But seriously . . .
I have four kids. Two boys and two girls. Their birth order is boy-girl-boy-girl. There are almost four years between the first and the second, and then only about eighteen months between the rest, so they are currently 17, 13, 11, and 10. Let's call my oldest son Ty, and my oldest daughter Aryn.
Because those are their names.
I gave up on Ty once he got a serious girlfriend. I couldn't compete, and knew this to be true the day he chose to go see Valentine's Day instead of Avatar in 3D. Her finger is covered with him, so to speak, and he's tuned me out.
Aryn still digs me. Just last night, we suffered through The Cape while snuggled up on the couch drinking iced tea together. Before she went to bed, we had a chat about her current favorite book. We are bookworms, and we get along swimmingly.
I oversimplify, of course. I could take things one step further and go all Freudian on you . . . he's afraid I'm gonna steal his girl and she wants to marry me. Or something like that. But I won't.
Instead, I'm gonna chalk it all up to the age thing. With Ty, we struck our relational apex right about age . . . 13. We were gaming together every weekend, I could still beat him at most video games, and he still needed me for a chauffeur. I knew a little something about anime, we still rocked out to music I liked, and he didn't need as much money for things like . . . presents for his girlfriend. As that lilliputian viridian guru would surely say, much more needed and cool I was. Back then. Now, I'm the guy who makes the ice cream and is mostly just annoying.
Aryn is 13. I mentioned that, right? We click on many levels. She's pensive. Has a very low key yet sharply honed sense of humor. And she's content to just hang with me. Doesn't much matter what we are doing, or where we end up, we enjoy one another's company. Her friends come over and she doesn't shoo me away.
It's starting to sound like I dig my kids most when they willingly and unabashedly . . . dig me.
Nothing Freudian there at all, eh?
So, what's your situation? Do you find yourself favoring the company of one child over another? If so, why? If not, then you're perfect. Go away . . .
