My Son is Just Like Me.

Sometimes I wonder how much my kids are going to be influenced by the fact that their father is a semi-insane, ultra competive weirdo with a giant head. At times I think, blissfully, probably not too much, after all, they have their mother who is grounded, maddeningly reasonable, and has a normal sized head.

Other times, however, I can see a lot of me in them, especially my son. To wit, he is 4 years old, yet completely happy with watching an entire football or baseball game with me, all the while peppering me like a caesar salad with questions ranging from totally inane and pointless ("Dad, does the brown football team have 2 shoes?") to concise and well thought out, ("Dad, what happens if the pitcher throws a ball and the guy hits it and it bounces over the fence?")

His favorite question however, is always, "Dad, who are the bad guys?" He's determined to know who the bad guys are in any situation, so he can figure out who to cheer for, and against. This doesn't just apply to regular sporting events either. The other day we were watching an airplane race from Greece or someplace like that and he wanted to know.

Him: Dad, who are the bad guys?
Me: Ummmm, I don't know dude, this is an airplane race. I don't think there are bad guys.
Him: The red?
Me: Seriously, I don't know.
Him: The blue?
Me: Sure, the blue.
Him: No, the red.
Me: Ummm....

He also wants to know the bad guys when we are watching SportsCenter.

Him: Dad, who are the bad guys?
Me: Buddy, this is just a bunch of people talking about football. There aren't any bad guys.
Him: The guy in black?
Me: Miles???

So once he determines who the bad guys are in any situation (Football, Basketball, the VMA's) he begins vociferously rooting against them. This can be pretty funny when we are alone, but in a setting with others, it's a little embarrassing. We were at Farmington High's Homecoming football game, and near the end we were sitting with my wife's parents on the visitor side, because the home side was too packed to find seats. So then the visiting parents and fans got to enjoy a 4 year old obnoxiously, and loudly rooting for the other team.

Him (Really loudly): GO TIGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That was OK, a little gamesmanship never hurt anybody. But then one of the players on the other team suffered what appeared to be a pretty severe knee injury. Things got a little out of hand after that.

Him (Very loudly again): THE BAD GUY GOT AN OWWIE!!! YAY!!!!!
Us (In hushed tones): Miles, you can't cheer when somebody gets an owwie.
Him: Why not, he's the bad guy. GOOOOO TIGERS!!!!!

People turned around to frown at whoever was cheering a high school kid's injury, and saw my beautiful little boy. He frowned back at all of them, very defiantly. I figure that might be partially my doing. Oops.

Then there's the issue of strategy for winning, which he appears to be coming up with all on his own. I'm not necessarily opposed to this, but it's the type of strategy he's employing that has me a little concerned. I coached his and my daughter's soccer team this fall, and what I noticed was that in between coming up to me and making sure that his team had more goals than the "bad guys" i.e. a bunch of 4 and 5 year olds every 3 minutes or so, that he was also crashing into the other team's players and knocking them over an inordinate amount of times, enough so that it was raising eyebrows with the fans. After the game I said to him,

Me: You were really crashing into the other team a lot. What's the deal?
Him: I was bumping the bad guys so that our team would get the ball and win.
Me: Ummmm....

See, strategy. He was the wrecking ball, opening lanes for his teammates. I applaud the thought he put into that, he's only 4 after all, but I was a little concerned it might be, I don't know, blatant cheating.

Finally, there's this thing he does, around our house we refer to it as a "Gigantic Temper Tantrum", whenever it seems as though he's going to lose at something. I can't help but accept that this is my fault, you're looking at the guy who got kicked out of SS Billiards in Hopkins at the ripe old age of 5 for beating up the "Baby Pac-Man" machine because I thought the joystick wasn't functioning properly. Again, oops. Yesterday we were playing the Wii version of some really lame mini-golf game. My son lost to my daughter. What followed was an epic tantrum, which should really only be reserved for things like the End of the World, that lasted well into dinner, and including loud screaming, and trying to maim his sibling, and the dogs.

I'm not really lamenting about this, he's probably going to be a wonderful athlete, but it's just weird to see the traits your little ones pick up on. I'm resolving to kick garbage cans less this year during baseball season for this reason. Awww, who am I kidding?