Oh, Yeah? Well, My Dad Isn't Nearly as Strong as Your Dad!
by Gary Drevitch
I was chaperoning my five-year-old son--let’s call him Fellow--on a kindergarten field trip when I heard him say it for the first time: “My Dad is stronger than your Dad!” Fellow was debating fatherly strength with his good friend, Josh, and the claims quickly entered the level of the ridiculous: “My Dad could move that whole building!” “Well, my Dad could push down on the ground and move the whole Earth!” And then, inevitably, Fellow turned to me to ask, “Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
But frankly, folks, I’ve seen Joshua’s Dad, and he’s a massive hulk of a man who could very likely move a whole building if he pushed hard enough. He could certainly put me through a building if properly motivated. And I said as much to Fellow: “Are you kidding?! Joshua’s dad is definitely stronger than me. I’m not so strong.” As I said this, Fellow’s smile stayed fixed to his face, but his eyes looked lost. “What do you mean, Daddy? You’re strong!”
When we walk to school together, when we watch movies, when we play baseball, Fellow and I consider ourselves friends. We banter, we debate, we tease. “Friend” was, in fact, my first nickname for him as a newborn. (OK, after “shnook.”) And so sometimes I forget: Unlike the rest of my friends, he doesn’t know my flaws. He doesn’t even know I have flaws. And he doesn’t want to know. Even when the evidence is staring him in the face, like when I stand eye-level with Joshua’s dad’s biceps, sometimes I just have to keep it to myself. It’s a small price to pay, letting him think I can move mountains.
Gary Drevitch is a former assigning editor at Teen People, Parade Publications, and Scholastic. He’s also a dad with three young kids. A veteran producer of educational content for McGraw-Hill, Scholastic Inc., and Time Inc., he’s written several non-fiction books for children.
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