Steroids and Jelly Beans

Whacking eggs. Puppet show. Fifty-cent Rice Crispy Treats. Gentle librarians with soft, "Can-I-show-you-microfiche?" smiles. We are there.

The West Chicago Library had hosted their annual Egg Roll contest, where kids swat eggs for thirty feet to the finish line, the winner is crowned Easter King or Queen while all of the others (losers) are shunned a visit by the Pink Furball the following Sunday morning.

G Frenzy, my 4-year-old son, is afraid. Very afraid. As I held him in my arms, I said we can just watch the thing and maybe steal some of the plastic eggs full of Jelly Beans near the finish. Something came over him.

“I’m in,” he said.

I plopped him down. He got in the race and won the damn thing … whack, whack, whack.

Where many dads find it necessary to cheer on their son in any contest—like victory means an athletic scholarship to Duke or to relive their own failed athletic pursuits, "C'MON SON WIN WIN WIN"—I just grinned, humbly on the outside, beaming with pride on the inside. I made my kid go high five the competitors. Good sportsmanship. Like we say Little Man, “Big effort, Big fun.” It’s not about winning. It's about the after party.

He shrugged, got his free plastic egg and instantly shoveled four or five jelly beans into his gullet. Mom was in the car nursing the baby. We were in the clear. I hit him up for two.

I asked if he had fun. He did. So I felt compelled to tell him performance enhancing drugs are an option in the future and there are also many drugs that can throw drug testing off. Drugs for drugs. Paging Manny Ramirez.

I kneeled down, eye to eye as the Super Nanny advises and explained many heroes in our society take drugs on their path to glory. Baseball great, Alex Rodriguez. Olympian, Marion Jones. Bush. Obama. Hendrix. The list goes on and on.

He shrugged again and headed for the dancing puppet show.

Just an option, kid. Did you see the size of those 5 year olds you will be competing against next year?