Type “P” Fun

I’m inventing a new type of fun designation: “Type P”. “P” stands for “parent”.

Those of you who might read this blog are probably familiar by now with Type I versus Type II fun; TGR has a nice explanation.

Type I is your immediate fun—it brings a smile to your face while you’re in it, while you’re doing it, zero latency, visceral pleasure. Type II fun is hiking the long hard mountain in terrible weather, running a fifty-miler, aiding a big wall. While you’re in it, it straight-up sucks. Long, tired, hard, grueling, cold, hot, hungry, uncomfortable, miserable. It is rewarding and satisfying only once it’s successfully finished. You’re glad you did it, but only after the fact. Sufficient “rosy retrospection” might even take you back to do it over again.

Now, for my new proposal: Type “P” fun.

Type P fun is the feeling of satisfaction and pride that a parent might experience during an activity with their kids.

Let me give you an example. I spent all day yesterday with my three boys on the beginner slope at the ski hill. We only did the one short shallow slope over and over again all day. The snow was passable at best. Normally, that would not be particularly fun for me.

However. The three boys were all over it, loving it. Jasper (age 6) insisted on mentoring Emerson (age 4). So they started riding the lift together by themselves (no safety bar). Riding a few chairs behind them (gloriously by myself), I have to admit that I felt considerable pride—and an equal amount of trepidation—watching them hanging forty feet off the ground with no safety bar, and trusting them to be responsible enough to be good with the situation. And they were good, they were careful and responsible. I am proud of them, and proud of myself to be able to have correctly (in my opinion, and admittedly judged in retrospect…) managed the situation in a way that let them have some independence and responsibility, without hovering excessively or being overprotective.

Meanwhile, Bodie was off on his own on a rental snowboard, teaching himself how to snowboard instead of skiing. It’s a bit of a blow, to be paying for rental equipment after acquiring ski gear for them all, but I think it’s important to support their own self-motivation for pursuing and learning a new skill (particularly an outdoor skill for the mountains).

Anyway, all I did for six hours was chase all three of my boys around the mountain, trying to be a good parent. Didn’t even eat lunch (though I did bring a beer—this wasn’t my first rodeo). Emerson fell over at one point and couldn’t get back up and took off his skis; Jasper couldn’t get them back on so he carried them down the hill while Emerson walked. And I watched it all from the chairlift, feeling pretty proud of the two boys for a small little incident that would otherwise seem inconsequential. I’m proud of Jasper for staying with Emerson, and figuring out a solution. By the time I caught up with them, they were interrogating the ski patrol while they were trying to put a woman with an injured arm into a sled. At least my boys were polite about it (“excuse me, why are you putting her in the sled is she hurt how do you move the sled?”).

At the end of the day, I hadn’t done a single thing that would have counted as Type I fun. Not even a single conversation with an adult that wasn’t rushed and truncated (parent style). While driving home (the boys passed out like mannequins after 2 minutes) I realized that the day was truly rewarding. Satisfying in a way that is hard to explain to non-parents (teachers will understand fully). It was a wonderful experience which will make for an even better memory.

Hereafter, it shall be deemed Type P fun.