It’s the best 1950’s tell-off. “Go fly a kite!” I imagine the world would be better if that’s the expression we used instead of an alternative.
We were graciously gifted a butterfly kite, I assume from the Easter Bunny. But it could have been Granny Grunt aka GG. E.K. couldn’t have been happier.
So now I’m going to type to all young, new dads only.
Have you ever flown a kite? No, of course not! That’s what the STEM (not called STEM in our day) kids did. But now your kiddo wants you to fly… no… master… kite flying. Immediately.
We have our work cut out for us. I know we need wind. Let out some string and try to get the butterfly-vinyl in the air. I told the other dads around that they weren’t allowed to witness the first launch. Judgement would be too harsh.
We stalled. Not because of the impending embarrassment, but because of the destined failure. I’m not sure Jess felt the pressure the same as I did, but I welcomed the silliness of the wind. Minus being the sweatiest human on the planet. Different story.
I’m happy to report, flying a kite isn’t so bad. We tried, tried, tried again and figured it out. Now all the kids in the neighborhood want a kite.