My daughter is a Pumped Up Polar Bear and my son is getting mouthy. She was trying to write a cheer for camp when I suggested "We are the Pumped Up Polar Bears / We like to chill out and we got white hair / It's cold in here / C-c-c-cold in here." And they're shivering, you know? She said it needed something about sushi. I'm like you. No idea. But I press on: "When we're in our igloos it's time to get nice / Bring us raw fish all wrapped up in rice / In other words sushi, salmon, tuna / Don't bring it later, man, please bring it soona." But none of this is the point.
The point is that my son says "Man, dad, those are some sick rhymes." And, HERE, at this precise moment, my son crossed the line between being a sweet little boy who loves his daddy and being a sarcastic prick bagging on his old man.
"Easy, Trigger," I reply, "It's only been a few years since you stopped pooping your pants."
"And you stopped wiping my butt."
The look on my face prompts my daughter to say "Oh it's on."
My open hand whizzes toward his face but he snatches my wrist in the air and we freeze. Somewhere, snow falls on the soft white fur of a lonely polar bear. The sound of memory. Full moon reflected in the still, still pond.
"Dad. You're 40. Your time has come and gone. I beg you. Do not proceed."
I headbutt his face. He crumples to his knees. I say "40 is the new your nose is broke, little man," which sounded way cooler in my head than it did in real life. My daughter says something about how much braces cost and mom being mad and stuff like that. I tell her hush.
My son stares at me like he's going to do something. I say "You look like you're going to do something. What you gonna do?" He goes right on looking like he's going to do something so I yell "DO SOMETHING IF YOU'RE GOING TO DO SOMETHING!" So he shoots lightning bolts out of all 10 of his fingertips.
Now where the fuck did my son learn to shoot lightning out of his god damn fingertips?
It was really zappy and irritating and I couldn't control any of my own functioning. SO pissed. At first I wondered when it would stop but then I zapped into this timeless state that identified with the suffering humming at the core of all things. It was really cool but I was still super pissed. I remember thinking no more video games and back on your meds and subjectivity is a myth but then, nothing.
The son must kill the father.