Toys R I

I'm close to another birthday. I can feel it in my toy store reflex. As I sat in the kitchen this morning watching my family mill around breakfast, I wondered if my father ever secretly pined for the toys that he was buying for me. I make no secret about the things I buy for my son. I buy the stuff I would like to play with. Sometimes this gets me into trouble with my wife, who actually reads those "suggested age ranges" and ratings on video games.
Come on - who is going to love an X-Men video game more than a ten year old? While I suppose I could eloquently discuss the relative merits of the game, and the intellectual agility of our son, I also know for whom I am making this potential purchase. I also know that I would feel ridiculous somewhat abruptly as my son's nine-year-old motor skills quickly consume my abilities.
The other end of the spectrum exists as well, with my wish to buy things I wish he would still be interested. The talking "Lightning McQueen" car, for example. "Yeah dad. Cool." "But his eyes move and he makes like twelve different sounds and..." "I'll be over in the video game aisle, dad." Okay. Maybe I'll buy one for myself, you know, keep it mint-in-box - a collectible. I dunno. I thought it looked pretty cool.
For now I'll be comfortable just languishing in the memory of toys gone by: Hot Wheels, Major Matt Mason, GI Joe with life-like hair, Thingmaker. Maybe someday I'll find a Vertibird at a garage sale. I can dream, can't I?