The Zombie Hypothetical

      In my long career as a dad I’ve had only male offspring (as far as I know) and I’m fine with that. Yes, I’m one of “Those” guys. I’m sure you know the type; Football is a religion, Godzilla films are an acceptable choice for movie night, salad only belongs on the top of a cheeseburger and I can save the little woman from the evil rampaging spider-That type. So yeah, all boys were fine with me.
      There are so many great experiences for a dad to have with his boys, but one of my favorites is the time alone with my youngest in the car just having ridiculous conversations. A favorite topic of ours seems to be zombies, most specifically what to do when World War Z hits. For those not in the know, WWZ is a reference to the inevitable zombie apocalypse.
      I know great subject matter right? Well he should be prepared shouldn’t he, you know…just in case. To be specific, a conversation we recently had was regarding the best weapons to carry when traveling the post-apocalyptic wastelands of zombie earth.
      After convincing him that a good sword is a better melee weapon than either an axe or a sledge hammer we decided on either an AR-15 or M-16 along with a shotgun and a sidearm with a clip rather than a revolver. My son is partial to the Desert Eagle so I let him win that one. Of course though he felt the absolute need for explosives of some kind, “At least frag grenades.” he pleaded, so I let him have that as well, after all what ten year doesn’t want to blow stuff up…ok blowing stuff up is cool at any age.
I thought we had finished our conversation and settled on the necessary tools of self preservation when from the seat next to me came the simplest of questions, “When?”
      “When… what?” I asked.
      “When are we getting the grenades and stuff?”
      “No, buddy” I replied, “We’re not really getting the weapons that was just a hypothetical discussion.”
      “What’s hypothetical?”
      “Well that’s a ‘what if’ kind of question. It means something that COULD happen.”
      “Well, Dad, if it’s something that COULD happen, don’t you think we should be prepared?”
I turned and looked at the smirking little smart-ass and said “I’m not buying you grenades boy…your Mom would kill me.”
      “Not if I hid them under my bed, then she wouldn’t know”
      “Just no”
      “Then why did we even bother with the hypochondriac …zombie stuff?”
      “Not Hypochondriac, that’s your grandmother, hypothetical, and we did it just for fun.”
      “Zombies aren’t fun unless you’re killing them Dad.”
      “No guns, no grenades, no swords, not until you’re at least twelve, this isn’t Texas.”
      “Fine dad, but if the Zombies come don’t blame me if I eat your brains.”

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