So, let me tell you about my son. He’s a good kid, most of the time, you know? But what really got me, what I wanted to share today, is this whole journey we went on. It wasn’t planned, not really, but it turned into something I’m pretty darn proud of, mostly of him, but maybe a little bit of me too, for sticking with it.
It all started pretty casually. He’s always been glued to his games, like most kids his age. But then he started asking these questions, like “Dad, how does the character jump when I press the button?” or “Who tells the bad guys to chase me?” Deep stuff for a little guy, right? I just kinda shrugged at first. I’m no tech genius. I fix leaky faucets, I don’t build virtual worlds.
But his curiosity, it was persistent. It wasn’t just a passing thing. So, one weekend, I thought, what the heck. Maybe we can try to figure some of this stuff out together. I remembered seeing some of those block-coding things online, meant for kids. Looked simple enough, like digital LEGOs. So, I decided, okay, this is my project now: teach the boy something new, and maybe, just maybe, learn a bit myself about patience.
The first few attempts? Oh boy. Let’s just say they weren’t pretty.
- I’d try to explain something, and he’d just stare blankly.
- He’d get frustrated super quick if his little character didn’t do exactly what he wanted. Lots of sighs and “This is boring!”
- And me? My patience wore thin faster than I’d like to admit. I found myself saying “No, not like that!” a bit too often, a bit too sharply.
We almost gave up, I swear. I thought, maybe this isn’t for him. Maybe I’m just a terrible teacher. It felt like we were just banging our heads against a wall. I remember one evening, after a particularly rough session where he nearly threw the mouse, I just sat there thinking, “What am I even doing?” It wasn’t about making him a coder; it was supposed to be fun, a way to connect.
So, I changed my approach. I stopped trying to teach so much, and more just… explored alongside him. We made silly mistakes together. We made things that were completely broken and just laughed about it. I focused on the tiniest little wins. “Hey, you made it change color! That’s awesome!” Even if that wasn’t the goal.
Slowly, something started to shift. He began to experiment on his own. He’d spend quiet afternoons just dragging blocks around, trying things out. He wasn’t asking me “how” so much anymore, but more “what if?” That was a big moment, I think. He was taking charge.
And then, one day, he came running to me, all excited. “Dad, Dad, look!” He’d made this little thing. It was super basic. A little dot that you could move, and another dot that chased it. Sounds simple, right? But to him, and honestly, to me, it was like he’d built a rocket ship. His face, all lit up, explaining how he got the chaser dot to follow the other one… man.
That’s the thing. It wasn’t about the game itself. It was seeing him struggle, get frustrated, but then dig his heels in and figure it out. He didn’t quit. He owned it. He built something, all by himself, from an idea in his head. And he was so incredibly proud of it. And that, well, that just made me burst with pride for him. It’s not about him becoming the next big tech billionaire. It’s about that spark, that fight, that joy of creation. That’s my proud son, right there.
