As I keep a close eye on the front yard, occasionally peering out looking for snowman vandals, I have a few quiet moments to reflect upon my obsessive tendencies and their impact on my children.

Kirby the Watch Dog is seen taking a well-deserved break from patrolling the front porch for potential attacks on our snowmen.

Take for instance our youngest son, Ben.  Today, he turned 6-years-old and this also marked a one year anniversary marking my end of one of my obsessive tendencies.  You see, prior to Ben’s birth, a friend of mine Patrick Ary told me a story about a photographer.  The photographer decided he would celebrate their new born child by taking a photo of them every day until they turned eighteen.  I thought this was a pretty cool idea and since we were about to have a new baby, I figured I would stick to that plan.  Well, it was a good thought (although quite a bit obsessive) and I stuck to the plan.  Every day, I would faithfully take a picture of little Ben.  Difficulties however soon developed…

1. I was annoying. Although I tried to be nice about it, whenever I was away for work or out-of-town, I would annoy my wife or whoever was looking after Ben by repeatedly asking “Did you take a picture of Ben today?” Yep, it was an annoying quest.
2. I am not a professional photographer and it showed. Plenty of the pictures were lousy or boring, but I did stick with it.
3. At times creative fatigue would set in. This showed by some photos being of the back of his head or him asleep, just because I could not muster the enthusiasm to ask for a smile. It had grown to be a burden.
4. The kid was growing sick of it. It got to the point, where he would even torment me by trying to run away when I grabbed the camera. Result: plenty of photos of Ben’s back, as he ran away.

Yep, it was certainly an obsession that had run its course.  So the day after his 5^th birthday, I figured it was as good a time as any to quit.  Cold turkey.  I had done well (I only missed a handful of days over the five years) and it was time to move on.

My obsessive tendencies have however remained (hey, a leopard cannot change its spots).  Take for instance, Ben’s birthday.  Well, he requested an “Inquisitor Lightsaber.”  Trust me, this thing is an epic new upgrade to the Star Wars weaponry collection.  Double bladed.  Spinning.  Detachable.  ‘Nuff said.  And at $30 it is the right price.  Only one problem:  I could not find it on the shelves.  Anywhere.  It was there last week, but apparently lots of other families are stocking their armory for Christmas.  Ugh.  What to do?  What to do?  Like a true nitwit, it was just two days prior to his birthday and I had no real backup plan.  After searching every store within a reasonable driving distance, I turned to the Internet.  A true enabler for obsessive quests and with a credit card in hand, truly dangerous.  Well, fortunately, online Walmart claimed that they could have the product in their store the next morning (only about 12 hours from then) with no shipping charges or additional fees.  Winning.  All I would need to do is pick it up and sell my soul (no, that last part is just a joke, although I do fear that there is a new teleportation device that has been developed in Arkansas).

Heading toward the back of the store, hoping and praying that there was not some new computer prank afoot, you know one of those “Ha, ha, he thought he could get out of this one easy, but he was wrong” moments, I walked down the toy aisle.  What did I pass by that was not there the day before?  Two Inquisitor Lightsabers.  Yep, somewhere deep inside Arkansas there is a teleportation device, now I am convinced.  Picking up my lightsaber from the back of the store, I could tell the clerk, who kept passing in front of a talking “My Little Pony Pinkie Pie” doll (I still have no clue what that thing was supposed to be, perhaps a mix-up with the teleporter), was thinking, “Why didn’t this dude just buy one of the lightsabers off the shelf?”

Bringing the new weapon home, I considered the questions, “Was it worth it?,”  “What is wrong with me?,” and “What will this new lightsaber break in my house?”  Well, I’m still not entirely sure what is wrong with me and I don’t know what it will break, but digging out my camera again to take pictures of Ben opening his presents, I could tell by the smile on his face that yes, sometimes my obsessive quests are worth it.  Yes, indeed.

Ben’s first glimpse of his new lightsaber, under the watchful gaze of his waffle eating older brother.