The Good Life – September-October 2018

FATHERS | MR. FULL-TIME DAD
WRITTEN BY: BEN HANSON • PHOTOS BY: URBAN TOAD MEDIA
We just wrapped up a three-day party for Macklin’s third
birthday. About 20 people invaded our home, ate our food
and left all of their garbage behind. We had a bounce house
in the backyard, beautiful weather throughout, all of Mack’s
favorite people… even the Blue Angels came to town to
celebrate. It was a wild success.
As expected, Mack raked in a pile of awesome gifts sure
to hold his attention until the end of this sentence — fresh
cans of Play-Doh, new bubbles, his first pair of rollerblades,
some water toys, the obligatory new outfit from Grandma
and a pedal-powered go-kart complete with roll cage and
emergency brake. As I watched him climb in and take off
down the sidewalk, I couldn’t help but envy him.
If it wasn’t Mack’s birthday weekend, I would struggle to
answer the Monday morning question “What’d you do this
weekend?” So, asking me what I was doing when I was 3
years old would be like asking my current 3-year-old to fix
my currently broken water softener. Try as we might, it just
isn’t going to happen.
What I can confidently say is I wasn’t driving around in my
own go-kart at 3. I also don’t recall ever having my own
private backyard carnival with the Blue Angels screaming
overhead. No, I remember birthdays at McDonald’s (which
was awesome… I still have my special birthday McDonald’s
mug) and dreaming about go-karts.
Pondering my son’s charmed life as I snuck an extra-large
piece of cake while safely out of view, a thought bubbled
up in my mind… 3 is the new 23. At 23, I was just about
a year into my first full-time job after graduating from
college, which meant I finally had the means to indulge my
own childhood fantasies. I didn’t buy myself a go-kart, but I
definitely walked out of Best Buy with a new 42-inch plasma
screen and signed up for the HD package with DVR as soon
as that first paycheck cleared.
My son has never known life in standard def. He drives a gokart
to the park. His favorite toy is also my favorite toy — an
$800 iPad. You see, 3 is the new 23. After finishing my cake,
I came up with a few more examples…
Baby Foodie
Had it not been for my cousin, who now takes me elk
hunting against his better judgement, the only red meat I
would have known growing up would’ve been beef. Macklin,
2 / THE GOOD LIFE / urbantoadmedia.com
on the other hand, has been developing a discerning palette
since the day his first teeth started coming in. He already
knows what venison tastes like, along with elk, shrimp,
salmon, walleye, crab, scallops, antelope, pheasant, etc. I
was in my mid-20s before I even knew what a scallop was,
let alone how gross they are.
Junior Outdoorsman
Mack was barely two months old when he experienced
his first legitimate road trip (and still hadn’t celebrated a
birthday before he spent his first night sleeping in a tent).
Now, by age 3, he’s an accomplished camper who loves to
fish, hike, swim in the lake and touch everything he can
reach without hint of fear. Come winter, it’ll be season two
of riding his very own snowmobile across the frozen lake
at Grandma and Grandpa’s. Before the end of this summer,
we’re heading to the mountains of Colorado to not only see
the Rockies, but also to bring Mack to his first live concert…
yep, at Red Rocks. What a time to be a 3-year-old.
Fitness Bro
Mack’s latest favorite breakfast is a children’s protein
shake. It’s true. The body shaming starts early nowadays.
Reading the ingredients, his shake is not that different
than the ones I occasionally mix up after the gym. He’s not
working on bulking up or optimizing his metabolism. He
just likes doing whatever I do... and I’m guessing he likes
the chocolate flavor and the fact that he gets to drink a
“shake” for breakfast. After a rousing hour of Jazzercise in
the basement on Saturday mornings, my mom would mix
up a shake of some sort, but I don’t remember ever getting
a taste. Mack has his own Blender Bottle.
Style
If I were to die tomorrow, whoever gets stuck writing my
eulogy won’t be reminiscing about my great wardrobe and
natural style. Mack, on the other hand, rocks a hot pink
speedo like some sort of tiny French fashionista confidently
strutting down the Riviera. When he was 2, he had flowing
curls long enough to put into a ponytail. He had a man
bun before he was potty trained. Honestly, I think he
currently owns more pairs of shoes than I do.
Sure, Mack has things like global warming, that new
tax form and the potential of living through WWIII to
worry about, too, but it’s hard not to be envious of the
opportunities provided to him... as well as his natural
instincts that must come from his mother’s side. •