In Theory, Communism Would Have Worked.

This blog is a blog of ideals.


It is a blog where arguments are rational, where philosophy is applied successfully, and where change and personal growth occur when enlightenment is achieved.

It is, therefore, nothing at all like reality. It is a blog of the should, not the is.

I’ve used this bloggatry to wax paterno-sophical on the existential dilemma of American Masculinity, on the universality of victimization in relation to bullying, and about how awesome coffee is. And it’s all bulls**t. The literary navel-gazing of a guy who wrote one too many collegiate essays on cultural relativism and post-modern feminist theater in Latin America.

Live the struggle, sisters. Viva.

But I can admit this. I should admit this, if you’re into that whole callback thing.

Today, for example. We were hanging out at Choo Choo Bob’s train store when a boy of about 4-5 started horning in on Little Man’s train narrative. Just stood around by the table for a while, then tried taking Percy, the number 6 green engine.

You don’t go grabbin another man’s Percy.

But it’s obvious to me, as I write this, that this boy wanted, or even needed interaction. His brother was maybe one and a half, not really able to play on his level. His mom was off in another part of the store trying to get signal for her phone. The boy was bored and not the type to play quietly by himself – he wasn’t malicious, or cruel, he just didn’t have the emotional awareness to just ask “Can I play with you?”

This should have been an opportunity to work on sharing with my Little Man, to make new friends and play together.

Should, again. Should have been.

What actually happened was I refrained from giving the little engine thief a suplex, and instead told him he could play with any of the other green engines on any of the other tables but that Little Man was using this one.

The boy lamely responded with a “Well…”

And I actually said “Well what?”

To a 4 year old.


I was that guy.

But this boy, the Little Man and myself were the only 3 people in a room of 9 freakin train tables. Nine! Five of which, and this is no exaggeration, were set up exactly the same! And he has to play on this one? With this engine?

Not my most shining moment, as a Papa.

I can’t help but wonder what Obie award-winner, and Pulitzer Prize holder Maria Irene Fornes would have done.


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