As a dad, there are many hats that you wear and many roles that you play.
You are counselor, instructor, handy-man - in Christian families, hopefully dad fills the role of spiritual leader as well.
Another role I find myself playing quite a bit is that of 'toy doctor'.
Today, two of Nate's favorite toys broke - the ninja sword I just brought him back from Poland was broken in the heat of combat, during a sword fight with Balázs, and the leg of Woody the Cowboy was tragically severed in the middle of an obstacle course.
I got out the super glue and attempted to repair the broken sword and reattach the severed limb.
The reattachment of Woody's leg seemed to be successful, although all movement in it was lost - but after a few minutes of play it broke off once again.
At this point I told Nate that I was sorry, but now Woody's leg was gone forever, and there was nothing more I could do. When Nate heard this, he put his head in my lap and started to cry and asked if we could go to the store and buy a new leg - which I told him was unfortunately not an option.
As he cried, I realized that he was not only sad that his toy was broken, but it was as if he was actually mourning the loss of a friend - something that he had played with and was attached to.
So, I got out the tools, and figured out a way to reattach Woody's leg with a screw. He hasn't regained all of the movement in his leg - but the operation was a success.