It doesn't seem appropriate to give a boy any "Sweet 16" greetings, since it conjures estrogen-images of pink cupcakes and tiaras -- unless of course he's into that.
My son Gabe is more into blow-'em-up video games and farting, so I guess we'll have to coin a new phrase. I'm open to suggestions.
He's also into being an absolutely great kid. A man, really. He spent the summer ripping up a garage roof with his bare hands and a hammer, and he cares for his baby brother as good as any other adult. He acts like he doesn't know how to do some things, but he really could clean his own living areas and do his own laundry and make his own meals if he had to. No wonder he already is dreaming about the day he'll move out and be on his own.
My congregation has a lovely tradition of singing "Happy Birthday" to folks with upcoming birthdays during the announcement segment at the end of a worship service. Gabe took his adulation this past Sunday with great humility and sincere appreciation, which alone made me beam with pride.
But as I was singing to Gabe with Max on my lap, I realized that I had another 16 years to go all over again. Made my voice choke a little.
But today is Gabe's day, and we're going to celebrate all day long. Mostly by eating. He's having breakfast with my mom, and then lunch out with me and my dad, then supper with me and my in-laws. Perhaps I should gift-wrap some antacid.
I know I need some at just the thought that my first-and-still baby grew up so very quickly.
No comments:
Post a Comment