Child-like Enthusiasm

 

Just a few days into my sick child's leave, I felt the rush of anticipation for the day's first hot cup of coffee and our morning dose of Ninjago.

For the uninitiated, Ninjago is a cartoon featuring a few Lego ninjas with special powers and their own primary colour. They fight all sorts of magicians, stone Samurai, robo-ninjas, and anthropomorphic snakes with their signature martial art: Spinjitsu.

We're into the fifth season, and it's fair to say I'm just as hooked as my nearly 4-year-old son. 

The level of enthusiasm for Ninjago in the household has been slowly building. First, it was the occasional reference after a day at the Kita. Then, there were the drawings and the priced pages of a colouring book. Then we started watching the show on Netlfix.

But, the tipping point into Ninjago fan-boy-dad-territory was the savage virus that knocked out almost all the kids, and parents, at our Kita. We've now been marathon-watching these Lego martial artists between naps, pleas to nap, matchbox car races, book-reading, and other activities meant to tire out a child that refuses to act like he's sick.

I've gone from a white belt to a black belt in Ninjago knowledge. How serious is it? I've moved beyond merely mastering the ninjas' names, colours, and powers, to thinking, "He's acting like a Cole..."

 

I've also had some deeply serious conversations about what the Green Ninja's superpower is. The answer? "The Green Ninja's power is Boom-boom."

There's so much about fatherhood you're not prepared for. At best, you think you're prepared for something, but find out you're not. 

 

But here is a situation I didn't know I should be prepared for: This powerful, unabashed enthusiasm for something — dinosaurs, cars, Ninjago, whatever — that's so strong that you happily get pulled into it. It's like getting sucked into the Darkness (season 2 for the Ninjago noobs), but far less ominous.