Life and death
My three kids muscled me off the Xbox for an hour so they could play Call of Duty Modern Warfare before bedtime. You know, that end-of-night time when you want to wind down before bed.
Earlier in the day, we had come across some video games in the garage that had been lent to my older son six or eight years ago. Now, of course, whatever platform they were for (Sega Genesis? Nintendo?) is long defunct. But finding them did give my eldest the opportunity to remind me again that this long-lost neighborhood pal was sent away to military school after he got a girl pregnant.
So just now, while watching urban warfare from the individual on-screen perspectives of my three children, I brought this back up. The on-screen military action as played out by my children brought back the image of childhood military school.
Me: “So, how old was he when he got sent to military school? 15 or 16?”
Lex (aged 18): “Something like that.”
Dietrich (aged 7): “What did he get sent there for?”
Me: “He got some girl pregnant.”
Dietrich: “Oh. How did he do that?”
Me: “The old-fashioned way.”
Dietrich: “Oh. What’s that?”
Emma (aged 11, and notably somewhat prudish): “Dietrich! Can you just drop it? You’ll find out soon enough!”
Dietrich: “I just don’t know what the old-fashioned way is!”
Emma: “And let’s keep it like that!”
Given the previous neighborhood example: Indeed.