There’s a ton of hype and pressure on the modern parent about how you need to spend TIME with your kids and PLAY with your kids and, I don’t know, PAY ATTENTION to them and a bunch of other coddling or what have you. But 1) This whole “play with your kids” thing is a relatively new idea in the history of parent/child relationships, probably invented by lazy people who whine a lot. I don’t know. This ain’t no scholarly article. Anyway, 2) I don’t know about you guys, but my kids aren’t all that interested in me. I’m like, “Let’s do something!” and they’re all, “eh.” I know a lot of you guys carry around a bunch of guilt about doing it wrong and being bad parents, but I’m pretty sure mine are growing up fine and they’re pretty cool — and it’s not because of all the time they’ve spent with me. We hung out a little. But mostly they played withLegos and Barbies. And now they have friends and Kindle Fires. Anyway, I took them to Michigan and I originally called this post The Top 1 Thing To Do with Your Kids In Michigan, not because there’s not a ton of stuff to do in Michigan, but because The Top 1 Thing To Do with Your Kids In Michigan is to hand them over to your parents and watch them all lose their minds. Then there’s lots of things to do in Michigan. For instance:
Go To The Movies. My mom and my kids love to go to the movies together. I love to read huge biographies about post-Jungian psychologist, James Hillman. Who loses in this situation? Who feels deprived? Who needs therapy? No one.
Go Play Miniature Golf. My dad loves to take the kids miniature golfing. I love to fall asleep on the couch with my hand in a 2-pound bag of Twizzlers. Is anyone guilty? Not a soul.
Go To The Mall. My mom and kids LOVE going to the mall where my mom buys t-shirts with clever jokes on them for my son and a bunch of pink things for my daughter. I love to not go to the mall. Symbiosis.
Go To Duck Lake. My dad loves to take the kids to the beach and the kids love sun, sand, and playing in the waves. I love engaging in active imagination and having conversations with the emergent figments of my psyche. Hey. I don’t judge what you do when your parents watch your kids. No hate. No hate.
Ride Mopeds. In my parents’, I don’t know, later years, they seemed to lighten up a little more and they tend to do more eccentric things like buy mopeds that go 70 mph. So they slap the kids on these mopeds and they ride around Western Michigan and all 4 of them smile from ear to ear and I sit on the steps in front of the house, nostalgically remembering aspects of my childhood. We should just move in, I think, and then they cruise into the driveway, wearing helmets, my gang.
Read more from me at Black Hockey Jesus.
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