I suspect when we were kids, many of our own Dads left us to our own devices in holiday times (or sent us to camp). So we may not have a lot of role modelling to refer back to, as in how did my dad stop us from being bored?. We came up with our own ideas for fun…

And there-in lies a strength of the Gen X and Boomer father: we are inventive. I think – before I get into specific suggestions – that the way we draw our kids into a delightful activity that doesn’t cost money or involve a games console is this: it HAS to be engaging, and WE have to sell it! By that I mean, we have to be enthusiastic and silly and joyful and we might have a shot at drawing them in.

Okay. Ideas. I’ve tried occasionally to tweak a well-known game. The stupidity of my new premise will often be enough to engage my boys.

Exhibit A: Pumpkin Rugby. (Or football for you Americans – it’s a similar enough game). The title IS the game. You play rugby. With a pumpkin.

Exhibit B: Zombie Tag. Look up the old post. It’s not hard to get your head around the rules of this game.

Exhibit C: Silly Scrabble. This is one I invented on the spot three days ago and played with a 10 and 14 year old. You might have tried something similar before. Basically, all words are allowed especially invented ones. The only rules are the word must coply with normal English spelling rules (as in moggrinder rather than mggrinder) AND you must have a definition for your word.

Then there are always the old favorites:

• Pooh Sticks (for the Winnie the Pooh fans),
• kicking or throwing the footy or soccer ball,
• having your own round robin or World Cup of various games complete with trophy,
• taking the coloring books to the cafe so you can get your hit and they can see a different place than home,
• backyard picnics,
• skimming stones,
• card games: gin rummy, snap, canasta…
• prank phone calls – hey, why not?

And finally, consider this thought from cyh.com:

Sometimes saying “I’m bored” is another way of saying “I want you to play with me”…

Any ideas to share with us Dads?

***

Related posts:

• Breaking Routine
• Fear of Fun? Or Fear of Failure?
• Get Ready to Rumble!
• Games for Car Trips
• Mm. Chocolate.
• What I Learned from Vacations
• A few Dad Jokes that your Kids May (or may not) Like

“My wife/partner tells me off for wrestling with the kids. She says I’m teaching them to be violent…”

“My wife/partner won’t let me wrestle with the kids…”

“My wife/partner makes me feel guilty for wrestling with the kids, so I try not to do it anymore…”

And then each time the fella finishes his comment much the same way:

“…but I feel like it’s ok. So is it?”

My answer:

“Yes. It is.”

I could finish this there. But. Every answer has to be qualified. And then when you’re writing (or speaking), you feel like adding more of your opinion as well. So here it is…

It’s a very very healthy thing for a Dad to play-wrestle with his kids. (Notice I added play there?) We’re not talking about molestation. We’re not talking about Dads beating up on their children or pushing them around. We’re talking about play.

Kids NEED to be physically touched by both parents. And at various ages and for various reasons, it becomes uncool to kiss or cuddle with daddy. So then what’s a dad to do? And what’s a kid to do? Shake hands? Nahhhh, you grab each other around the shoulder and start rumbling.

One of the other things this achieves, particularly with boys, is that it’s a way of teaching them boundaries, of when they’ve crossed the line and getting too rough. For boys to pit their strength against a bigger stronger male is a valuable way of learning to empathize and control-self.

Alright. So you’re saying (or your missus is reading this and saying) “Who are you Pete? What do you know about it? Why should I believe you? What makes you the expert?”

Okay, if you don’t trust me, go read these articles below. Then google dads wrestling with children. Or you could meet my sons and see the real life effects of a decade of Dads and Sons play-wrestling. Yes, I’ve gotten a couple of fat lips and a fair few bruises (and they’ve gotten virtually none!), but my 13 year old still gives me a hug. They’re both empathetic human beings (except with each other!). And they both play rough games with their mates without it ever escalating… Anyway, go read these other articles.

And feel free to share your stories and objections and here-heres in the comments area.

• http://www.pacthawaii.org/images/hcdimages/HelpingDADSgetmoreinvolved.pdf (look at #3)
• http://www.dadmag.com/archive/060100mrsdad.php
• http://innerself.com/html/parenting/general/creating-a-happy-home.html (look at #20)

Slightly Related Posts:

• Covering All Bases parenting program
• Dads Influence Their Daughters’ Interest In Math
• Fear of Fun? Or Fear of Failure?
• Lord of the Love Languages

Most important lesson I learned from this trip was not to pack too much in.

Second most important, boys eating lots of junk food and being cooped up together in a car and motel rooms = lots of farts – live with it.

Third most important was, if you’ve travelling to another city, get a real map. a handful of google map print-offs won’t do. Canberra is the most bizarrely laid out city on earth. You literally drive in circles, under one cross streett and over the next until you are heading in the opposite direction you think you are. In fact, oldest son came up with the best advice: “Dad, just drive opposite to what you think.” It worked…

Anyhoo. It was definitely worthwhile, and I’m so glad I took the time out to do it, and grateful to the wife for helping me plan accomodation etc. Left to me, we’d be doing the Mary and Joseph thing, roaming around a town after dark looking for an inn…

Without boring you with anecdotes and too many slides, here’s some photos…

Youngest Son (pretty much the only Aldin willing to be photographed). Here you see said youngster posing by a vehicle of destruction at our War Museum in Canberra, probably dreaming about hotwiring it…

This is one of the amazing sets of models at the Museum depicting famous scenes from the Great War. Absolutely breathtaking.

Constable Pete putting his son in the tree-trunk jail for farting  in the car. 

In 2010, we are putting on the most outrageously good-time retreats for Dads and their 11-13 year old sons where we can share some tried and tested strategies for building the kind of bond our sons need from us Dads while actually DOING THE BONDING! And everyone will be having so much fun they won’t even realise it’s happening.

See our Events page  here for more.

Tell me if you have corporate contacts who can help us take  this to the highest level and quality possible. I truly believe 2010 will see dozens of families with restored relationships, with an unshakeable bond between father and son, and with preventative meaures in place to save young people from the slippery slope of substance abuse and violence that’s plauging their generation.

Of late, my weekends have been punctuated with anxious sessions at the computer answering emails, preparing documents that I didn’t get time for during the workweek, and sometimes bouts of do-i-really-have-to-work-tomorrow-depression on Sunday afternoons where I’m no good to anyone.

This weekend I decided no emails, no stressing about work, no wondering how I’m going to fit it all in on Monday. I decided to recharge me and recharge the relationship with the family. I spent Saturday morning attending a great seminar (where I caught up with Chris of Pink Apple and actually met Mad Cow). Once I was home it was seminar notes and briefcase into the office and Pete into the x-box room where Oldest Son was arrogantly destroying the other teams in the Polish premier soccer league (FIFA10, folks).

The rest of the day was spent in such activities. It was amazing, though,  how often a little voice would try to steal my attention (and action) away. The voice said  “I’ll just go and check my emails” and “Wouldn’t you like a nap?”  and “Your son will be fine without your attention” and “This is unproductive” and “Watching your son do stick figure animations is boring, go read a novel or draft a marketing plan or draw up a timetable or something“. I call that voice my Anti-Cricket, as in the opposite of the Jiminy Cricket conscience character in Pinoccio (or however you spell it). It’s the opposite of the voice of reason (which we blokes seem to do a better job of not listening to). Well, if I can habitually not listen to the voice that tells me “Eat the apple, not the cream bun”, then I figured I could not listen to the Anti-Cricket.

So I spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday locked in occasional battle with the Anti-Cricket and apart from couple of moments where the diary came out, I largely defeated the little bugger. It’s been a lot of fun just hanging out, rebooting my own centredness and enjoying the boys having fun.

And wierdly, sitting down to work this Monday morning with a little more to do than usual, I actually feel calm. The late Sunday depressive illness only hung around the edges of my awareness for about the length of a commercial break and was chased away by more FIFA10 and stick figure animations.

I must say, I highly recommend chilling out with a focus on the kids. Good for the soul, good for the family, and I suspect good for the work output overall.

The Anti-Cricket can go chirp up someone else’s tree next weekend too.

September 19th be Talk Like a Pirate Day. And I be the kind of scurvy dog that drags his kids into the fun!

My boys and I will be swordfighting with rolled up towels and addressing shop assistants as “Me Hearty”.

How will you celebrate it?

But. It can be a great thing to break that routine, in the sense of doing something out of the ordinary. Like the times I played Pumpkin Rugby and Zombie Tag with the boys. The time Youngest Son and I went to an audition together. The time I took the boys for an hour’s drive to another beach (we live at the beach) where I knew there was a tidal stream we could dam with logs and such, put up with their complaining at the length of the drive and their requests to turn around, and partook of their joy at damming that stream when we finally got there.

It’s an effort to break routine. And it doesn’t always pay off. But the potential is there for the unexpected, the memorable, the “bonding-moments” to happen.

How could you do something out of the ordinary with the kids over the next week? For me, I’m planning to take Oldest Son out for icecream on Sunday. The best conversations seem to happen out of the house and over food (well sugar anyway)…

One of the wonderful things about the internet is that people with way too much time on their hands have a way to share their whacky musings with the rest of us.

I cite a site called garfield minus garfield  where the basic premis is this:

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb.

I’m grateful to Logical Emotions for alerting me to this one! There’s something about the allusions to mental illness coupled with the sheer randomness of the results of removing Garfield from the frames that works for me. Maybe that says a lot about my mental state, I dunno…

Here’s a taste…

and my favourite:

Ho ho ho, Merrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry Chrissstmas!