"That's amazing," I said. "I imagine they'll tumble around and learn how to break boards. What a great party event." Obviously, I was biased as all get-out. Party day came and went. I asked "mom" how it shook out. She told me her daughter had a blast, as did most of the kids.
"Most of the kids?" I asked, eyebrow cocked.
"Yes, some of the kids were shy and didn't participate. Sat on parents laps and watched."
"Oh," I mumbled gravely. "That's not good."
Here's how it breaks down—my friend's daughter does gymnastics and currently attends hip hop classes. She LOVES her hip hop. Although, only ten years old, tumbling around on mats and hip hoppin' in front of other kids has built confidence. I'm sure when the martial art instructor asked who'd like to kick some targets, her hand shot up.
But for the kids that do not have dance, gymnastics, or any sport background, the thought of attempting board breaks in front of peers would've been a bridge way too far and way too high. They'd crawl onto mommy's lap and hang on for dear life. Meanwhile, the other kids, kick, soar, tumble, punch, roll and finally...bow in respect.
What follows is a true story...kinda, sorta.
Yani, is shy. With no activities in his life, video games are his salvation. He attends the martial art birthday party and plants himself on mommy's lap. Elementary school and middle school is all about Minecraft, Fortnite and Mario Kart. High school comes along. Yani is still shy—a loner. Still...he's got his games. Gorging on the empty carbs that mommy Martha, and Pop Ward, allow into the house, Yani puts on more than a few unwanted pounds. He gets every cold and flu during every cold and flu season.
After high school he decides to take a gap year. He refuses to get his driver's license claiming he doesn't want to pollute the planet. But mom and dad know it's bullshit. Yani is afraid to drive and too lazy to study for the driver exam. He adds another gap year as he can't decide what he wants to do. Without a license he needs mom and dad to pay for the Uber account...along with the cell phone, because he can't work. Why can't he work? Because it's a crap economy and his pre-diabetes prevents him from working certain jobs.
Yeah, right!
Time rolls by. Yani's not going to college. Yani's not working. Martha and Ward have never been introduced to anyone he's dating. In fact, Yani doesn't have any friends, come to think of it. Martha's arthritis begins to act up along with Ward's sciatica. That cuts it, Yani needs to care for his parents. No way can he move out on his own—he's got to stay home. So what if he's still in his childhood bedroom, he's turned it into a sweet pad. Sweet monitors. Sweet joystick. Sick Star Wars duvet cover. Mini fridge full of Whiteclaws! Come on!
It's Yani's 39th birthday. With the aid of a cane mom makes her way to the dinner table. Dad is laid up on the couch due to another low back flare up. Yani comes through the door with a store-bought bundt cake.
He places the cake on the table and plunks a single candle in the center. "Stupid Uber driver played stupid reggaetone music all the way back from the bakery. What a loser."
"Oh well," Martha says forcing a smile. "You're home now. Happy birthday son."
"Yes, happy birthday son," Ward calls from the couch.
"Whatever," Yani mumbles.
"Whatever nothing. Maybe this year you'll find a job, get a license, get a car, then you can play any damn song you want in it," Ward blurts.
"Leave the boy alone, Ward," Mom barks. "It's his birthday."
"Damn it, Martha, he'll be forty this time next year!" Ward blasts.
Yani bolts upright. Cake literally caked to his face. "Seriously! If I didn't have to look after you two, I'd have a life. I'm pre-diabetic—not my fault. There's no jobs out there thanks to you boomers and I have anxiety because I worry about you two so much. I'd be out there makin' moves if not for you guys! I'm going to my room."
"Going to your room, now there's a surprise!" Ward shouts. He grimaces and clutches his low back.
Ward and Martha regard each other. Their eyes overflowing with sadness. Finally, Martha sighs, "If only we'd put him some sort of activity when he was young."
"Yup, too bad you coddled him so much," Ward says.
"Me? You treated him like the daughter you never had, Ward Stimfrinson. Don't put this on me!"
Yani hollers from his bedroom, "Mom! Dad! Shut up, already. I'm trying to play Mario Kart and I spilled cake on the floor. You need to mop it up or something."
"Clean it up yourself," Ward shouts.
"It's my birthday!" Yani screams. And screams again.
"My back's out Martha, you'll have to do it."
Martha sighs, stands, and sets her cane. "Coming son," she calls.
Let this be a cautionary tale. Let this be a warning. And finally a plea: Parents, get your fine young children into something that gets them moving and socializing, and teaches them a skill. Guide them to confidence. Otherwise, the child may go the way of young Yani Stimfrinson.
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