I Smell A Bedtime Story Prospect

Dr. Helen (otherwise known as the InstaWife, spouse of Glenn Instapundit Reynolds) pointed out a book enticingly titled The Dangerous Book for Boys. A description of the book from the Telegraph (UK) review of the book reads:

It’s amazing that The Dangerous Book For Boys ever got published, really, given the deeply unfashionable connotations surrounding two out of the five words in the title (the ones that aren’t “The”, “Book” and “For”).
The very thought of an educational volume that sets out both to exclude a specific gender and to promote activities with questionable health and safety implications is enough to bring the ultimate condemnation that the world of mealy-mouthdom has to offer – that of being “inappropriate”.
Just a glance down the contents page gives a pretty good clue of the direction in which the authors’ minds are heading. Even before page 100, chaps will have learnt how to decipher enemy code, make a bow and arrow and plant a tripwire that will alert them to the imminent arrival of baddies in the camp.

The book is headed Stateside later this year. I think it might very well be worth picking up for young master Will. Heck, I think I’d like to read it through a time or two, particularly along with Will.
I fondly recall the insaneenjoyably dangerous games my brother and I participated in as kids: bicycle tag, dirt clod wars, Kill The Man With The Ball (“Smear The Queer”, as it used to be called, has dropped out of favor for obvious reasons), playground boxing matches and the all-purpose “Hey, Check This Out!”, a “game” whose closest adult analog is the Jeff Foxworthy-esque “Hey, Watch This. Hold My Beer.”, among others. I hope that I can inspire, or at least allow for these sorts of behaviors in my children – play styles that encourage inventiveness and imagination without fully entering into Johnny Knoxville/Bam Margera territory. I just hope everyone in America hasn’t decided to keep council on retainer by the time he’s old enough to enjoy himself thusly…

Oh How The Days Fly By

Daddy and Will.
Around a year and a day ago, I was finishing up my round of “He’s here! And he’s a ‘he’!” calls from the hospital room and settling down with my wife and son (gosh, how strange that sounded at the time!) for our first night together. The quiet insistence of the new reality, namely: there’s a whole new person here, and we’re responsible for him! was setting in. It all seems to magical and so far away now.
Will and the balloon.
Will turned 1 on Tuesday and it’s safe to say that my love and adoration for my son has only grown with each of the 367 days that have passed since his birth. I love how he has grown, how he shows ever more personality on a daily basis and how he gives every indication of being a bundle of energy, intelligence and mischief. Happy birthday, Bud. I love you.