Dad Entry #188

I just scanned my last five entries here and now I feel shame. Things have been too Megan-centric lately. This is unacceptable. It’s unjust, uncool. Why? Because Michael’s a helluva lot less hassle, for one thing. I just came right out with that, didn’t I? Ahh, the truth does set you free. I feel light.

I know, of course, things can change overnight. We have moments and phases when Michael’s the hassle. And I’m always a hassle for myself, if no one else is a hassle. Hassle. My new favorite word.

Michael plays the cello. Sometimes I greet him cheerily with, “Cello, Michael!” … Get it?! … Yeah, good stuff, anyway, I said to Michael, “Hey Bud, have you ever heard of Yo-Yo Ma?” Michael said, “No.” This surprised me, but I knew what to do: I fired up YouTube. Then I stared at a rotating circle for about ten minutes. (My internet at home is expensive but not fast.) Eventually, we watched Yo-Yo Ma. He is the Jimmy Hendrix of cello players. I told Michael, “This guy is kind of average, I know you’ll work harder and be way better than he ever dreamed of being.” I was joking, of course. Regardless, Michael tuned me out; he was listening to a master. Yo-Yo Ma is a former child prodigy who performed at age five, a Juilliard and Harvard grad, a 15-time Grammy winner, and probably a swell guy. Even so, I would never go see Mr. Ma – even in a free, nearby theater – if Michael had performances on the same nights. Yes, even over successive evenings, in theaters right next to each other, I would choose Michael every time. I would enjoy him more. It’s simple. I’d even throw on a black tie (if I could somehow purchase one and avoid tux rental hell). This very genuine preference – for our children over the best in the world – is one of the great things about parenthood. Besides, you gotta be rich or famous or the President to meet Yo-Yo Ma. I’m oh-for-three again.