Ken 2.0 and Ken 2.0a

I really hope to be a successful parent.

This isn't a cry for help from someone who skipped those classes in grade 5. Trust me, I know how it works. I would draw you a word picture but that would make you jealous.

My measure of parenting success is that my children surpass me in ways that are good. Despite this noble pursuit, my wife does discourage me from introducing my children as "Ken 2.0 and 2.0a". Something about them being scared or scarred.

Some things are going well. They read better than I did at their age. They are both better than me at drawing. They are considerate and polite enough to dupe everyone else but their parents. So far so good.

May I mention that my children so easily exceeding me in all areas is no poor reflection on my parents. I was just a terrible child, able to dupe only my dear Grandmother, who for some reason attributed all my wrongdoing to my sisters and parents. I don't think any words can describe how beautiful it is to be rotten and have a sibling blamed for your rottenness.

Part of helping these beta versions actually reach their release date (when they are eighteen) is some simple "what is good for you" sessions. And by sessions I mean telling them what they must do.

There are some things, like roads, large areas of open water and train tracks, where you do try to put some fear and respect into the innocent dears. They just have no concept of what one tonne of metal moving at over 1.16 meters per second in a 0.83 meter per second speed limit does to an otherwise healthy waterbag with limbs.

There are other important, although less dramatic lessons that they pick up. Like don't eat rocks, don't throw rocks, don't throw your food. And not smoking.

The other day I came home to see chalk drawings on my driveway. Among the typical replicas of crime scene outlines (in hot pink) there was this dire warning:

"Beware"
"Dangerous"
"No Smoking!"
"Or Else"

This was followed by the usual smokebusters symbol and two stick figures who were holding cigarettes. Their eyes had been replaced with X's to symbolize their sudden demise to the side effects of taking a puff in my driveway.

It was a bit macabre and zealous, not to mention quite threatening. I don't know who told my older daughter that smoking was unhealthy, but I want to interview them on their techniques. And then write a book on that and profit from it.

You have been warned: don't smoke around Ken 2.0