“Do you want to play basketball?”
“Not now, I’m busy.”
Okay, I’m sure that conversation plays out in one form or another between millions of fathers and sons across the country. But in what tiny fraction of those instances is it the son who is too busy? And on how many occasions is that busy son four years old?
I’m just asking because that exact conversation took place between me and Addison tonight, and I was the one who got blown off. His schedule eventually freed up and we squeezed in a quick pickup game of Nerfoop, but I had a little while to ponder my place in the universe . . . and as far as Addison’s concerned, that’s somewhere in line behind Pinky Dinky Doo.