Happy Birthday Dad!

Happy Birthday dad!

In the very near future my birthday will arrive and I’ll be turning the ripe ole’ age of 26. And I’ve got to be honest, I’m just not all that excited about it. There’s literally nothing special about the age of 26. In fact, there’s nothing special about any of my next four birthdays (26-29). I’m in no man’s land. We often associate our birthdays with important milestones, right? At 16 you can date, and get your driver’s license. At 18, you’re suddenly ready to be labeled as an adult in society because you’re so much more mature than when you were 17. Twenty one’s a biggie. If alcohol and gambling are your thing, then you've got the legal right to do both. At 25, you get to finally rent a car without paying the dreaded “at risk” fee. Thirty is a biggie too, but it's kind of a mixed bag. At 30 you're entering the beginning stages of your inevitable “physical breakdown.” Your ankles and knees start to wobble a little more and those joints start hurting for absolutely no reason. But on the flip side, at 30 you also start entering the “veteran phase” of life, where you’ve lived long enough to start “lecturing society” and saying stuff like “back when I was young...” “Can you believe the things kids do these days? I never would have done something like that….” And on and on and on.

So, again, what’s so special about 26? I say nothing, but my son said otherwise. You see, as we’ve raised Lucas the last two years, I feel like I’ve had to bite my tongue on occasion. Okay, not just on occasion, I’ve had to bite it a lot. I had to bite it the first time Luke started showing an abnormal propensity for singing and dancing. I had to bite it the first time he strongly iterated to me he’d rather listen to Taylor Swift than any of dad’s famed music like Weezer, Collective Soul, or his instrumental movie soundtracks. The first time he went from walking to prancing majestically around the house on his tippy toes (all in one motion), I almost fainted. Sometimes he flails his arms dramatically while running and it takes every bit of my man control to not think of him cheesily running toward the girl of his dreams on an episode of the “Bachelor.” I bit my tongue to the point of bleeding when he made it very clear that his favorite movie and soundtrack is “Mamma Mia.”

I know what you’re saying: “Why keep biting your tongue?!” “Do something masculine for that boy before it’s too late! And my response is to tell you that I’ve tried, but I want my son to develop his own interests in his own ways without daddy’s overbearing influence. We’ve tried unsuccessfully to play catch, hit a baseball, shoot some hoops, and kick a soccer ball. I figured it just wasn’t his thing. Or so I thought. Daddy got a big surprise recently when he came home to find his son doing…..well, watch the video to see for yourself.

I know, I know. He was half-naked and still prancing/jumping on the bed, but my little boy was shooting hoops! On his own! Long before dad had come into the room to play along. It was a surreal moment, folks. One of the few moments in my adult-life where the the tears could not be contained. And it gets even better. Since this experience Luke and I now shoot hoops around the house for fun. He recently sat down with daddy to watch golf and some basketball games. This morning he threw his container of vitamins through the air, across the entire kitchen, into my waiting hand. The tide is turning and the timing is perfect. Thanks for the birthday present, Luke. No. 26 will certainly be one to remember. But I think what gives me ultimate satisfaction is that you’re you, kiddo, and I’m lucky enough be with you every day.