On St. Patrick’s Day, my oldest son took me to see the Lego movie (click here for details). It’s a really good movie, not just because it’s funny and creative, but because it’s about a father and son trying to relate to each other through their play. Yes, the theme song (“everything is awesome”) gets annoying, but what kid’s movie doesn’t have an annoying song?

The next morning, when I came up to work, I noticed my stack of comic books. I’ve been collecting them since I was little, and I have accumulated a fair number. They’re not in mint condition or sleeved or anything like that. It’s just a pile of comic books.

Even so, the ten-year old me had guarded these comics like they were a sacred treasure. I watched over them like a hawk, guarding them from my brother, and only sharing them with friends occasionally. They could come and read with me, but they couldn’t take them home.

Seeing them the morning after the Lego movie, I suddenly realized that I’d never shared with my kids. When it came to comics, the ten-year old me was still in charge.

I grabbed a big old plastic storage box, stacked the comics carefully in it and carried them downstairs.

“Okay, guys,” I said. “Here’s the rule. When you’re done, put them back in the box. These things fall apart incredibly easily, so let’s take care of them.”

The kids dove into the comics with a satisfying excitement, and have been reading them ever since. They’re not being very disciplined about putting them back into the plastic box, but, I hadn’t really expected them to.

If the comics get destroyed, they get destroyed. It’s not every day a dad has a chance to be awesome.