Raising Dragon Slayers

Feb 9, 2025 -- It’d been a rough couple weeks. Trump was busy trumping, Musk was busy musking and God the fuck all knows what nightmare Stephen Miller was concocting. Tossing the monkeys into the back of Ember, our ’91 Tacoma, I headed off to the hardware store to get some lumber for a project we’d fast-tracked with the election.

Knee-deep in the middle of nicotine withdrawals (don’t judge, I’m getting there), my mood was made worse by the four straight days of rain. On that same crazy train was the high-octane, pent-up energy of the monkeys, my six-year-old twins.

K needed a break, the monkeys needed out of the house, and I needed lumber.

I gave them very explicit instructions – let’s get in, get out and there is going to be a few moments where Daddy needs to stop and think, do some math and work some things out, so that means you HAVE to give me a few minutes before resumption of question deluge.

They of course agreed to all of this, and pinky swore they would absolutely give me the moments when I indicated I needed the moments.

We get to the hardware store and the questions begin immediately – can we get a plant, can we look at the lollipops (why are there lollipops in a hardware store?), can we help you move that lumber, can we hang on the cart, why is that there and not here, do you think Mommy would like that? I’m not proud to admit I snapped a few times – they took it in stride and more … God damn these are some good kids.

If I’m being honest – they were damn fucking good, much better than I probably ever was in similar situations as a little one.

We get what we came for -- they’ve already clamored into the back of the truck and buckled in, I’m piling the lumber into the back of the truck, strapping it down for the journey home. And it hits me – take them to McDonalds.

Now this probably doesn’t seem like much to most fast food being so ubiquitous, but you must understand, K and I go out of our way to avoid fast food, stopping in only the rarest of occasions – no judgement in any form to anyone -- it just isn’t our values. The monkeys are especially keen on McDonalds right now as the Happy Meal toy is a pack of Pokémon cards and they are bat-shit fucking crazy about those adorable battling creatures.

Watching the world around you crumble is a nerve-wracking experience in the best of times all while trying to maintain the amount of energy required to continue as if everything is ok is exhausting. Late-stage capitalism, a corrupt-as-fuck kleptocracy in the White House whose chicanery overshadows and diverts attention from the very real problem of planetary overshot of which climate change is but a natural outcome to name a few. A planet way beyond carrying capacity, white supremacy on the rise, and an all-out assault on the LGBTQA+ community (and fuck all, that’s just the tip of the iceberg) means, at least for this parent, nerves and tears are constantly on the edge of collapse at any moment. What the fuck sort of future am I giving these two?

Somewhere, years ago I read a thought – “In an age of dragons, never be ashamed or afraid to raise dragon slayers.” I will say proudly that is mine and K’s mission in life, to raise dragon slayers. But as those two beautiful babies bounced around in the back of my rebuilt truck, their joy in reveling at the newest plant they had acquired (a barrel cactus for one and a fly catcher for the other) I realized -- sometimes you also must take a break.

Values are important, in this day and age I’d argue even more so. But so too is just letting the dragon slayers have a moment of joy. Let them luxuriate over French fries, cheeseburgers, and Pokémon cards.

I allowed myself to sink further into the abyss – how much longer will I even be able to take them to McDonalds. No one knows when it’s the last time you do something – your last kiss, your last hello, your last trip to McDonalds.

“What’s wrong, Daddy,” one called from the back seat of the truck. The look of sadness, concern, and fear clear on my face.

“Nothing, monkey, why do you ask?” I say back as I argue with the ancient seatbelt to clip it in.

“You look sad, Daddy” the one replies.

“Oh I’m good,” I say as I forcefully wipe the look of consternation off my visage.

It goes quite for a moment as I plunge the keys into the ingnition and fire the engine to life.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea, gang” I say to them. “You guys were really good in there and I really appreciate that – what’s say we go to McDonalds and see what Pokémon cards we get?!”

Resounding screams of YES! Bellowed from the back seat and off we went.

Raising dragon slayers in this moment is critically important, but so too is letting kids experience the joy of being kids – you just don’t know when it might be the last moment they can.