DAVIS: Life with my 10-year-old son

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By Lanny Davis

ANALYSIS/OPINION:

First, this is a different column than the usual blah-blah-blah about politics, although I will try to link the topic to the name of my column, Purple Nation. Just be patient. This column is actually about something important. This is about life with my 10-year-old son, Josh.

Let's start with: Does anyone remember what it was like to be 10 years old? I try to. It was before I cared about girls, when I cared a lot more about my baseball cards, Willie Mays (OK ... I am dating myself) and Superman comic books. I also thought my parents were becoming increasingly stubborn and wrong about things. Why did they disagree with me so much?

Today, my 10-year-old is interested in different things: For starters, he recently conquered the secret of the Rubik's cube, something I have long considered to be impossible. Mr. Rubik, by the way, was once asked why children could figure out the cube better than adults. His answer: "Because children don't know it's impossible."

For my 10-year-old, the priority cultural activity is watching the WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) on TV. I actually allowed him to persuade me to take him last week to the Verizon Center in D.C. to see a WWE match.

Did I know who John Cena, Rey Mysterio and Dave Batista were and who was supposed to win and who was supposed to lose? No. But Josh knew everyone - not only their names, but who was the good guy and who was the bad guy. I must admit that among all the screaming and hooting people (for some reason I don't know, wrestling fans at various times let out a strange, owllike hoot), I spent most of my time on my Blackberry. No, I am not addicted. Yes, I am addicted.

There was only one moment I decided to concentrate on the ring instead of my Blackberry. And that was when the "lady" wrestlers arrived for their all-too-brief matches. I got out of my seat to move closer to the floor seats, where Josh was sitting - of course, only to check to be sure Josh was OK. The fact that we were closer to the ring and I was looking eye to eye, or eye to whatever, with Melina and Kelly Kelly, was purely coincidental.

I didn't ask Josh who was the good woman versus the bad woman, since they both looked good to me.

There are lots of other things in Josh's 10-year-old world that I have a hard time keeping up with. He thinks T-Pain is actually singing when he is rapping "Low." I try to argue that this is not music, this is speaking in rhythm, and that Stephen Sondheim or Richard Rodgers songs are music. His only response: "Dad, get modern."

My oldest son, Seth, 38, had a different expression but the same meaning: "Dad, if it's not on National Public Radio, you don't have a clue.")