When you realize you’ve turned into your parents

I might be turning into my dad.

I was recently at a friend’s house and realized, I may not be a dad — but would definitely be my dad.

It was last weekend, that first 50-degree day after a few weeks of bitter cold.

And my friend’s kids — one was plopped on the couch watching video games on YouTube. The other was sitting at the counter — with the iPad hooked up to a speaker — and also watching people play video games on YouTube.

And all I wanted to say was “Go outside! At least go walk your dogs.”

When I was a kid, I was the same way. Until dad pulled in the driveway.

Then mom would yell her final warning, “You better get outside, your dad’s home.”

It was the last of many warnings that I didn’t listen to. Not until the garage door opened, and then I ran out the backdoor, giving the illusion that I had been playing outside the whole time.

And if I did get caught watching TV when dad walked in, well, then I would have to do some chores.

But my friend’s kids, there’s none of that, and the rage built inside me.

But they’re not my kids, so I quick played with their dogs and then rolled my eyes at the zombies staring at YouTube, as I left — probably to go home and watch something on YouTube myself, if I remember right.

As I see it, I’m Rick Solem.