I'm not old (though that doesn't keep people from telling me that I am). Then again, you have to be old (or acting it) to actually say "kids these days".
Friday afternoon: The quintiscential Canadian moment: Kids playing road hockey. Me: I was the "Car!" Like good little ones, who may have feared for their lives, most of them got out of the way. All but one. A twelve year-old kid who clearly thought he ran the show. I'm in no hurry as I roll (safely) through their game, until I came up to the net. In front of it, this kid would have nothing to do with moving. We laughed. The kid stared. I jokingly revved the engine. He pretended like he was going to give my hood a new look with his stick. Still funny. "We'd do more damage to you then you'd do to us." Slowly, grudgingly, he moves. Only he doesn't actually move off the road. Rather, he pushes the net over just a little. He's learned the art of compromise. Maybe a good lesson. Maybe a sign of his future. As we slowly slid by him and on our way I couldn't help but wonder what he might come across in the future and how his attitude would come into play. The one thing that was painfully obvious to me: In the equation of car v. kid, kid = power. It's impressive that he knew that, though a little unnerving at the same time. He may well bend the world to his needs in the future but I knew that if he decided not to move, we were turning around. I mean really, what else would we do? Tell his mom?