The other day I was at the McDonalds playhouse with my 4 year old son. He’s a pretty happy go lucky kid so I was surprised when he came out looking a little off. He wasn’t sad but I could tell he wasn’t his usual hyper self. When I asked what was up he told me a kid in the fun house had said his shirt was ugly. This had made my son kind of sad…..or at least he thought he should be sad.
At that moment choices had to be made as a parent. We have one job – protect our kids, shape them for the future, and turn them into great people. So maybe that’s like 3 or 4 jobs but still. This conversation could have went a few ways. I summoned all the grown-up-ness I had and gave him my best “dad” advice right there in McDonalds:
“You know what bud….I hate to say this but I think he’s right. That is one ugly shirt. I mean, who dressed you this morning”? As I was grabbing him for our ritual tickle fights. He laughed and I laughed and then after we were done laughing and playing I said it like this – “Why do you care one bit what that boy thinks of your shirt? Do you even care what your shirt looks like? We’re here having a blast and suddenly the fun stops because some kid you’ve never met and will never meet again said he doesn’t like your shirt? You know what I would do if one of these other parents came up to me and said they didn’t like my shirt?” He said “What” I said “I would wear it every time I came here – just to rub it in their face.
We laughed about it on the ride home and had a great talk about how what others think (in most circumstances) means less than nothing.
Today I was reminded of this conversation when I read yet another #GamblingTwitter user looking for some kind (any kind) of positive confirmation, after someone had said something “mean” about them on twitter. Just because Lebron cries (literally) every time someone looks at him wrong does not mean you have to also.
The world gives ZERO shits about your feelings, and if you can’t take a bit of negativity on twitter (behind a fucking screen) you have no business even glancing towards the mailbox that might hold the paper, that might house the classified ads, that may post the “for rent” section, from the comfort of your moms basement…….even though you are 28. I mean shit bro – stay in the basement….tell your mommy every time someone says something mean to your on your 2am raid in WOW. Maybe she’ll let you live there rent free for another 6 years if you play the “I’m sensitive” card a little thicker.
Ok look, I didn’t mean to get all “moms basement” on your ass but where did all the fun go? The day my wife takes one hour off making fun of the stupid shit I’m constantly doing is the day I start worrying. Where I come from friends make fun of friends, parents chuck shit at their kids and it goes on and on and on. There was always that one “crier” in the class and we all looked the other way at lunch hoping he wouldn’t sit with us….because then the fun was over!! Don’t be the “fun over” guy be the “fun starts here” guy.
OK look, I get there are some self esteem issues out there and get that shit is real. You feel like your life is a failure and your worthless….well ya, I mean maybe you are worthless (you see what I did there….making fun of you….in FUN…..this is what friends of yesterday did bro….we FUCKING JOKED AROUND WITH EACH OTHER) but you get to decide. We don’t have much in this life but we do get to decide some shit. If you have access to the internet, sports betting, and twitter I’m guessing you get to also decide:
- What you eat
- Where you work
- Who you marry
- What you weigh (you can exercise if you want…..it’s not fibromyalgia)
- Who your friends are
- How you take criticism
- What religion (if any) makes sense to you
- What you’re sensitive too
OK look (was that 2 OK looks or 3? Ah fuck who cares at this point) what I’m saying is, enough with the cry baby shit on twitter. Just because your favorite sports player acts like a child every time someone looks at him wrong doesn’t make it OK for you. In this world shit doesn’t always go your way. You are not the only human being walking this planet and others (when you least expect it) will say mean things. You can either laugh it off (inside and outside) or you can let it bother you but YOU, and only you get to decide. AND before you blame your parents (yes they may have raised you to be a pussy) that only flies until you’re 18. Once an adult you get to decide what you do and don’t take from how you were raised.
I actually don’t know if anyone gets to the end of these blogs although I suspect not many LOL – anyways if you did make it to the end I thank you.