I had a lot to think about today. My little boy who is now five and deep into his adventurous imagination fills me with pride and a keen and sweet remembrance on the small boy that I perhaps once was. With his “ho-hooongh! Avast yer scurvy Pirate!” or his Potteresque “rengaurdium leviosa!” I remember similar pasionate mimicry for spiderman, St. George (cave! Sic Dragones!), Robin Hood (and his rocket bound analog) and of course, the below showcased, Hercules. Olympiaaaa!

It is not just a good time for a laugh at the past. It is also Father’s day and this is a day that occasions much thought. Solomon was with me this weekend and for that I am thankful. We played, worked on holding a pen and making letters, had a lesson in dog training, visited a toy train store near the corner of Carnarvon and 6th street in New Westminster where we had a lesson in economy, and we played outside under the very trees I played under when I was a boy. The whole thing got me to think about my Dad a lot.

He is in Russia learning how to paint. St. Petersburg has the l’Hermitage museum and a bunch of painters that tell old dudes from Washington State how to paint like you need the money. I remember him today because in my son I see the same convinced passion about imaginative play that I remember in myself. It is a type of play that is both hilarious to the outside observer and truly serious to the “inside eyes” of the little boy.

I remember not really believing that I was doing battle with the Sheriff of Nottingham but that the idea of the battle and the forces (bravery, justice, history) at play were important and real. I had to try them on, like armor (or a blue toga) to see how they fit. My seriousness, and now my son’s can’t be laughed off. I don’t have the answers but I know that it is formative. So much of this play for little boys is verboten today, often by well meaning caregivers and teachers that can not tell that the outward pantomime of aggression is actually a minute examination on the qualities of mercy and the difference between right and wrong.

I give my son free rein (mostly) with this, as I was afforded by my parents. While he plays under the same canopy as I once did, and as my father also played (and as it happens in the same hobby store where my father shopped as a kid) I remember this continuity. It is comforting, but I often feel as if I am parenting from another age.

Time will tell.