How a Nerf war revealed a much bigger truth.

What if you actually gave your soul what it is craving?

I’m not going to lie, I was tired. It hadn’t been a “long” day in the traditional sense, but it was a day that saw me expend a lot of mental energy.

So when my 6-year-old son asked me the question, I told him “no” faster than a summer storm lightening bolt.

The question he asked was bathed in joy and anticipation: “Daddy, can we do a Nerf war tonight?” I love summers for a lot of reasons, but a part is because every one of them takes on its own personality. What I mean is that, for as long as I can remember, each summer in my life has become “the summer of [something].”

After my senior year in high school, it became the summer of bonfires. Last summer it was the summer of healing. A couple summers ago it was the summer of friendship. So every spring I wait in anticipation about what the summer will become. I don’t necessarily try to plan it, because the moment you do is the moment it loses its authenticity. And I don’t rush to name it. It just has to happen. At some point, it will reveal what summer it is. Sometimes early on, sometimes later. Sometimes it will shout it, and sometimes you have to wait silently for the warm breeze to carried its hushed but calming whispers.

This summer is shaping up to be the summer of Nerf wars, staying up late, and campouts. And by campouts I mean both of my kids have slept together in the middle of their playroom in a tent every single night. Why? Because it’s summer. Their aunt set it up for them one night, and it just “stuck.” The summer theme revealed itself early this year.

Last week, my kids also started playing with their Nerf guns more regularly. Don’t ask me why. If you’re a parent, you know that there are toys that will sit and sit and sit and sit and rarely ever get touched. There are also the ones that will get used every day. And then there are others that will make their way into the “rotation” randomly. For some reason, last week the Nerf guns made it into the rotation after sitting dormant for some time.

I’ve felt really convicted recently to lean into spending more intentional time with my kids. But not in reading, or giving them life lessons, or anything like that. I’ve felt the pull to just have more fun with them. To make memories. “Core memories,” as they say.

So earlier this week, I decided to press into the Nerf obsession. I bout several new Nerfs, 200 darts, and for two nights straight we dashed around the house shooting each other, hiding, and laughing until the kids nearly fell asleep standing up. It was epic.

I say all that because my son wanted another round of it last night. But I’ll be honest: I’m starting to get to the age where sneezing wrong can throw out your back. I may only be 37, but two weeks ago I slept on a different bed and added an extra pillow and I literally woke up unable to look to the right or left. In other words, my back was feeling the two days worth of Nerf wars.

That’s when — and why — I told my son, “no.”

“Daddy needs a little break tonight, buddy,” I said.

“But daddy, pleeeeeease? Just for five minutes?” he replied. He tends to use the “five minute” time for anything he wants these days. When he wants to go to the store? “Just for five minutes.” It never takes “just five minutes.”

At that moment I had a decision to make. I felt the conviction rise up in me: “Jon, these are the opportunities you’ve been hoping for.” I’d like to tell you that in that instant I picked up a Nerf gun and began an epic battle. But that’s not what happened next. Instead…