Day 7

Friday morning and I'm feeling good. Refreshed, excited, eager to spend the day with the brother in law. Brendon (Wardy) Ward is a fixture of Narrabri, a quintessential bloke, known for a quick wit and a reliable howdy do. A true man of the people, this one. On his day off the two of us are squadding up while the kids are at school and daycare, starting with the shops.

I'm in the market for a small keyboard, one that fits my niche purpose of a children's performance. Details to come. The gist is I use my loop machine and tiny bit of piano experience to piece together 45 minutes of entertainment for kids 4-9, perhaps younger if I can get some wigs, props, or other visual gags in order. I'm hoping I can use my time here to practice with my nephews, getting their valuable insight. They'll tell me the truth on whether I suck once they're a bit more used to me, I reckon? Regardless, I get a tight little 49 key beauty that will fit my suitcase back home, then pick up a few T-shirts. 

We stop by a cafe for breakfast with Pete and Lynn Ward. This is where I learn that the blog's been shared out by Jacki - The Ward's have always been very kind about what I post online. Here's a bit of a predicament, I don't have much to say about them at the moment, but will they be expecting some grand entry about our time together at the cafe? What's this young lad's take on smashed avocado? How will he interpret the culinary endeavors of this bustling hidden gem of a village? Is the long black as good as it is in New York? They must be furious at how I missed writing yesterday, too. Their daily fix, delayed. I'm so sorry, Lynn and Pete. It won't happen again. My breakfast was good, thanks for asking.

Missed the bit when we dropped off Lenny at daycare. I could go back and place this paragraph where it belongs chronologically, but time is a social construct, innit? All of it blends together the moment I sit down to remember it at the end of the day. We drop the third Ward child off at daycare, before breakfast, and I get to see how freaking adorable this place is. When he first enters the Gumnuts childcare facility, he grabs a small paper picture of his face, glued to a red construction paper flower, and places it on piece of velcro on the wall next to a hook. He then puts his backpack on that hook. I melt. The fine motor skills on this man! The learned responsibility! Every routine a 2.5 year old has is endlessly adorable. He does it again with a cubby (lower case cubby, not Cubby of Callan acclaim) where he puts his lunch box. We march through the room to the backyard play area, wherein he makes a clear shot towards a scooter and starts playing without even giving us a wave. He's too busy for us, now. B Dubs signs him in and we continue onto the shops (See paragraph 2) 

After breakfast we head home and I take care of some writing. Writing this blog is only possible when the kids are out of the house, so the fact that I'm currently writing this on a Sunday is a rarity. That's just the way it goes! I find my pocket and get the last blog post out right before the internet junks on us. Something with the electrical fuse and pool pump, I'm not sure. Thankfully I didn't lose anything at all. I'm rewarded for not waiting until the last minute to get onto the computer and start the process. If it's not too annoying, I'd like to take a brief detour to write about writing - a common subject for myself and other amateur writers, surely. 

Creative inertia is a phrase I've had in my head for so long that I've forgotten its source. It goes exactly how it sounds - it's easier to keep a rhythm of creativity when you have some momentum going in the first place. Standing still for any amount of time means it's that much hard to get moving. Writing is a shit thing to get off the ground. It feels like a spark is needed, some sort of brilliant inspiration, something worth writing about. In my experience this is a trap. 

The reason I do most of my writing when I travel is tied to the need to document something rare, like a vacation. That's not exactly inspiring though. It's an obligation. A deadline, so to speak, as the next day is quickly approaching and my memory is quite shit. There's no other chance to mark down what I'm feeling, it's now or never, and until i open up the blank page and start, the process feels a bit sloppy. Unsexy. Not too fun. Only when I get halfway through, when I'm finishing a paragraph and can somehow ignore the buzz of my phone (just happened, brag), do I feel some sort of actual satisfaction. I'm not exactly sure why I do such an unfun thing as writing, but it's better than the alternative, which is being bored or too busy. I get a chance to get my thoughts out of my head so I can better live in the moment. When I'm at my best is when I can trust that I'll get around to jotting everything down later, even though I know I'll miss things. That's all good, it's not about being perfect, it's just about doing it. 

I explain all of this to Lenny, verbatim, as a way to get him to sleep. 

In the early afternoon we pop out the house again to catch the weekly assembly. At Narrabri West Primary School, perhaps in all Australian schools (who has time to look it up?) there are weekly assemblies where the kids get awards for good behavior, excellence in academics or sport, and other similar achievements. The go on the off chance that Huxley or Callan get an award. Lucky for us, Callan got one! For good manners! I'm not surprised, the kid is polite to an extreme level. We get a quick pick with the beaming six year old and he's back off to class. I get a quick glimpse at Huxley doing a crab walk while in line back to the school. I turn to his father, who just says "Stimming" and I laugh. I miss being a kid. 

There's a spot of rain coming down as we stop by a bar for a quick bite and a pint. Rain brings good energy, Brendon explains. It's not all too common and often breaks up the hot weather, plus on days where it's too wet to work the fields, farmers will come into town for a pint themselves. We don't stay long enough for such a migration, but a few folks chummed up with the BIL stop by for a chat while we finish our cheeky grub n' ale. I notice there's a room close to us with a warning "18 and up ONLY" which means, clearly, something very fun. I catch a glimpse of something familiar while a guy steps in... is that a slot machine? Brendon affirms my hopes, yup, they're everywhere around here. It takes a decent chunk of willpower to avoid getting started on those puppies. I'm a sucker for slot machines, and yes, I know how that sounds, and yes, I'm quite good at them. You'll see. You'll all see!

By the way, for lunch I got an aussie burger. Hamburger with onion, beetroot, pineapple and chipotle mayo. Absolutely insane. Next afternoon I'm by myself I'll bike over to the pub for a burger and a press on the bricky's laptop. That's a proper holiday, yeah?

We lazily finish our lunch (just killing time) and get back to the car at a moment when the rain lets up. An unfortunate thought has been brewing for a little while, "What will happen to Huxley's cricket match?" It's the grand finals of his cricket league tonight, they play on the big field under the lights, but this rain is heavier than the 2.2 millimeters projected and the likelihood of the match happening diminishes by the second. Brendon drives us over to the field to confirm the sad truth - there's no chance of a game tonight. It's unfortunate that I won't be able to watch Huxley play cricket while I'm here, though at the time of writing there's apparently still a small chance that they'll find a time and place to postpone. A real shame. 

So we eat the L and grab the kids, head home for the night, and order some Indian food for dinner. I'm sent the menu and the first thing I see is "Fettuccine Carbonara." Indian, huh? Maybe next time, tikka masala for me. Not a food blog, just worth mentioning.

The big deal for today, and all weekends in general, is starting up a Minecraft world with the boys. This is an important game for hundreds of millions of kids. It came out when I was fifteen years old, and twice that time later it's still around, in a bigger way than ever. It is crack cocaine for children. The Ward household has a great rule, no Nintendo Switch on weekdays/schoolnights, so the second it's available as a play option we're booting up the virtual world of blocks and zombies. 

I get really into this game. I tell myself that the kids need someone to lead them, a captain, and in some ways that's correct. If I'm being honest, I just want it to be fun for me, too. Letting them run around like headless chickens just isn't fun. I want to play the game somewhat properly. I want to feel like we're moving forward, first we get a cowpen, then we farm some wheat, then we mine for iron and diamonds and an enchanting table. There's a progression here. The game is a sandbox but there is an order. Do you boys want to kill the dragon or not? They surely do. So I need to yell at them a little bit. They need to listen!

It's not about the game though, is it? They're kids and kids have ways of playing that are better than other ways of playing. In Minecraft specifically, there is a way to circumvent all the boring bits of progression by "dipping into creative mode." In this mode you become a god. Every block, every bit of armor or weaponry, becomes a trivial click to obtain. You can fly and you're invincible. You can put any item into your inventory, at any amount, then go back into "survival mode" aka the standard game with those items at your disposal. For a six year old it's perfectly fine, I suppose, to have the ability to do everything in a game designed to allow you to do anything. I think it's robbing them of valuable life lessons that can be achieved through gaming. 

Video games are a difficult thing to evaluate, if we're holding it to some sort of moral or utilitarian standard. Are video games damaging our kids? Set aside the debunked fears of higher crime rates or propensity to violence, it's true that too much gaming can be harmful for a growing child. Any parent of a 5-10 year old will tell you that they can sit in front of those things for 12 hours straight if they weren't asked to stop playing. A kid doesn't have the same ability to think critically about food or exercise or education. The brain likes dopamine, and video games provide. That's a scary thing for parents who might not have had the same experiences as a kid.

As a person who grew up with gaming as a 5 year old, I sympathize with these concerns. There absolutely must be boundaries. No gaming on weeknights is a brilliant rule, but of course it's just a start, since that rule alone could lead to a 48 hour bender as soon as the clock strikes 12 on Saturday. The amount of time a kid is allowed to play games is a bit arbitrary too, since on rainy or cold days they have much less fun outside. And what about replacing it with valueless television? There are many factors, and there's no one size fits all solution.

Enter uncle Jesse, who's presence allows for longer gaming days at all. I want the kids to get something out of this time playing. Yes, having fun gaming with your uncle is intrinsically valuable. Yes, they will have these core memories forever. But what of the lessons that they can take away? What can they carry into other aspects of their lives? Minecraft is a game about risk taking, its about planning, it's about managing resources. It's a game about exploring and critical thinking and long-term goal setting. Its not like a shooting game which has the flimsy benefit of improving hand eye coordination... there is a lot underneath the surface. In playing this game with them I'm hoping to help them understand their own thought processes, to understand responsibility and integrity, to think before they take action and be mindful in the process of gaming. Also, for the love of god, I need it to be fun for me. So don't take my Fortune 3 enchanted diamond pickaxe, you little shits! Stop letting zombies in the house! STOP HITTING YOUR LITTLE BROTHER WITH YOUR SWORD! (I quickly turn off Player versus Player combat)

I end the night with a bit more footy and call it a day. Hopefully we get to go to the races in the morning...