Large Fierce Mammal

We all know that children naturally imitate adults, and how important it is to make sure that whatever it is your kid sees you doing, it’s something you can safely shape into play that’s gauged to their present level of understanding. There comes a time when the child’s development imparts the ability to grasp that there are some things only adults can do, but until that day, we must exercise creativity, wisdom, and stealth.

This is my first real foray into writing song lyrics, and I picture this performed by a man with a drawl in a sort of country rap delivery to guitar or banjo accompaniment. Any LFM loyalists out there who would like to give it a go will be most welcome, and your efforts will certainly be posted here once received, so be warned! Takers?

The song tells a story based on the interest SFM Viktor is showing in my training in the Blade Arts, and my philosophy of Fathercraft in general. He has taken to picking up one or two of our rubber training knives, which in proportion to him are more like swords, and wielding them in imitation of what he sees me doing. His performance of some techniques is incredible, and all of it is simple imitation with over the top encouragement from Mum and Dad whenever he does something truly outstanding. Of course, no hitting the Dogs, who are never anywhere nearby when I am training anyway, and no hitting any other person who isn’t prepared and inviting you to do so.

Yeah, He Did

By LFM

My little boy child likes a watchin’ me train
With my sabre and épée, my cudgel and cane,
But the big rubber Bowie really lights up his eyes,
And to work on his swordplay, well it’s just the right size.

Yeah, it is.

Last night I was trainin’ while he sat on the ground
When he picked up that Bowie and he waved it around.
I saw how he held it in a fine sabre grip,
Then he set up a back cut and he let the blade rip.

Yeah, he did.

Well my eyebrows shot up and I let out a yell,
My Wife came a runnin’ to see what the hell.
Our little boy usin’ that knife like a sabre –
The laughin’ and the clappin’ nearly put her in labour.

Yeah, it did.

I fenced him a spell ’til he started to tire,
And his eyes started droopin’ from the warmth of the fire,
Then we put him to bed with a smile on his face,
And his wasn’t the onliest one in the place!

It still ain’t.

He slept through the night ’til an hour from dawn,
I heard the bed creak and the sound of a yawn.
More rustles and knocks sped me spry up the stairs,
And I laughed when I saw me the state of affairs.

Yeah, I did.

Well, he’d got into the bin where the trainin’ blades live,
And he got him a Bowie and he grabbed him a shiv,
He met me at the baby gate armed to the teeth,
With a full mornin’ diaper hangin’ down underneath.

Yeah, he did.

Now some of you are thinkin’ this is right off the wall,
And what a little boy needs is toy trucks and a ball,
But don’t you be thinkin’ we’re violence prone,
A blade ain’t the only thing needin’ a hone.

No, it ain’t.

Our boy’s got toys of the usual kind,
But don’t forget playin’s ’bout shapin’ the mind.
A boy needs shapin’ ’til he stands as a Man,
And his Mama and Daddy, they’ll do what they can.

Yeah, they will.

All times of the day, a boy watches his Dad,
And he’ll copy that man, all the good and the bad.
So whatever the man your boy grows up to be,
You can say to yourself, “Well, he got it from me.”

Yeah, you can.

A boy is a boy, but for only so long,
And there ain’t too much time fer to play out the song.
A Man owns what he does and he navigates strife
Finer tempered and sharper than any old knife.

Yeah, he does.

So I’ll teach him to think and I’ll teach him to fight,
How to Love and to build, and to put what’s broke right.
I’ll teach him to drink and I’ll teach him to curse,
And I’ll know in my grave that he coulda did worse.

Yeah, he could.