To the kindergartner who introduced Angry Birds to my Noah

Dear Unknown Kindergartner,

When I was six years old, my father was the mortal manifestation of the supreme creator of the universe. In 1985, he was the only man that could consistently hit a bank-shot three pointer in really ugly knee high socks. He knew how get out of eating peas, let dishes soak for days, and properly use "Reaganomics" in a sentence. How could the man be anything less than a demi-God?! 

It was my father who brought home the bacon and anything else he wanted. If there was something radical or awesome out floating in the collective cosmos, Dad would lasso it, hog-tie it, and heave it onto the dinner table that evening. Sure, Mom might have known all about Olivia Newton John in rainbow leg warmers (Side-note for another post: I'm forever scarred from watching hours of her PBS televised concerts, while trapped in a walker as a toddler), but Dad... Dad introduced me to life's greatest mysteries like The Power of Love and where to go where everybody knows your name.

This was the man I patterned my life after; the man I thought I was becoming, until last night at 8:00 p.m. MST. There I was, sitting in the bathroom with Noah, when I remembered I had a moral obligation to introduce him to a cool "semi-new" app on my Droid: Angry Birds. I'd finally been able to download it (that's how we hog-tie these days), and was now ready to unleash its awesomeness to my first-born. The moment was supposed to be golden, even testosteroniffic, as I opened the app, and said "Noah... Look at THIS!"

Instead, he took one look at the screen and said "Hey, my friend has that game. It's where you launch birds and get to blow up piggies!"

You must be that friend. I ask you sir, why on earth do you have a smartphone in Kindergarten? Are you using apps to cheat on your color by numbers? Are you tweeting your afternoon recess activities with those small semi-opposable thumbs of yours?

Don't you understand? I was supposed to be somebody. I was supposed to be God's representative for all things dangerous, silly, and plain stupid at times. Instead, thanks to you, I've been downgraded to a second positive review for Angry Birds. If I were a lesser man than you've already made me, I'd ask you to meet me after school at the flagpole.

I'm smarter than that though. I know you'd just text all your tough friends and gang up on me.

Sincerely,
Noah's Papa