So one of my sister-in-law's co-workers bought my son a soccer foosball game last Christmas, along with an air hockey game. The air hockey game was easier to construct, so that got put together and played early and often, while the soccer game collected dust.

But last Sunday, the weather was rainy as hell, and the wife and I had no intentions of leaving the house, so she put the soccer game together, while I watched basketball. My son, who didn't care that I was watching basketball, immediately ran up to me, and asked if I would play soccer with him. I made him wait until halftime, and then I very reluctantly made my way into his room for some games.

My brother and I had a foosball soccer game when we were younger, and although I hadn't played in years (30 years to be exact), it didn't take long for me to once again reclaim that level of mastery. My son and I played for about 90 minutes straight, and I was taxing his ass. He won one game and I was victorious in approximately 95% of the games. My son got frustrated, but I was impressed by his resilience and his willingness to take "L" after "L" in search of consistent wins against his dad.

In fact, since that rainy Sunday, we have played 20-30 games, and he was starting to win a bit more, but I was still winning 70 percent of the time. That all changed this evening...


Granted, I didn't even want to play that f**king soccer game, because my son got in trouble not, once, twice but three times for failing to be silent when the teacher asked him too. He isn't normally that recalcitrant, but that's no excuse. I took away some toys, banned the iPad, and basically told him to read and do homework drills all night before and after dinner. But when he sheepishly asked if we could play three soccer games before bed, I said yes---mainly because I wanted to tax that ass three times and somehow tie my victories into the overall lesson of being obedient at school. Pretty ambitious of me right?

Well my son defeated me not once, twice but three times in that damn soccer game, and only the last game was close (9-8). The first two he beat me 9-5 and 9-4, and he did so with glee and an innocent joy. He didn't notice how angry I was getting, and he didn't even realize that his confidence was directly related to his success. He taxed my ass, and I cannot even properly describe how angry I was getting. After he won the third game, I angrily told him to pick a book out for bedtime, and he tried to shake my hand to say good game, and reiterated that I wanted him to pick out a book for bed.

Five minutes later, I realized how small and childish I had been acting, and I shook my son's hand, and he smiled and said, "Thank you Daddy", which almost made me cry...but not really, I was and still am angry about taking 3 "L's" to my 7-year old son.....