Happy birthday Sam.
You’re turning nine today. Nine. How did that happen? This morning you walked down to the end of the block to hop on the bus and I saw you standing there with your little brother and all of a sudden the world doesn’t dwarf you like it used to.
I remember the day you started kindergarten. Parents had told your mom and me that the first few years of your life would sort of stroll by but once you started school the years would fly. And now you’re finishing third grade and I’m having a hard time. Your little brother is finishing daycare and next year he’ll be getting on the bus with you too. And it’s happening too fast.
You know I’m an emotional dad. It’s the way I’m wired. I’m particularly bad at transitions. When a vacation is ending, I have a hard time enjoying the last day (or two) because I’m pre-sad that the vacation is ending. I’m fighting that with you right now. I don’t want to be halfway through you living in our house. I want you to be eternally nine.
But no I don’t. I’m floored by you. I think you might be one of the nicest, coolest, most wonderful people I know. I love watching you operate in your own world. I love watching you play little league, and not just when you’re getting a good hit or making a nice play in the field. I love watching you crack jokes on the bench with your friends. I love it when you’re catching and you cheer on your pitcher. I want to hop over the fence and run out and hug you. But I know that would be mortifying, so I don’t.
Mostly, I just want you to understand that I love wearing lots of hats. I love playing music and doing triathlons and being a teacher and working at Search and being a friend. But no hat brings me as much joy as being your dad.
Whatever you’ve got going right now, keep it going. You’re surrounded by people who care about you and you’re on fire because of it.
Happy birthday birthday boy. But any chance you could just slow down a bit?
Nate – print this out and keep it for him, then give it to him when he’s older. These kinds of things are precious. Then again, knowing what kind of kid Sam is, he might just do it himself anyway.
Don’t ever stop writing this kind of stuff, Nate… Not only Sam and Pete will love to see it years from now, but so will you as you remember the joys and the tug at the heartstrings that acoompany this business of parenting. I loved beginning my “day after Sam’s birthday” reading this.
Susan aka Mer-Mer
One of the joys of aging is observing your children go through the transitions you went through. The school years just race by. Keep these memories in written form. If I have one regret it is that I never acquired the practice of journaling. Too late at 63, but not for you or Sam.
Mind if I just change the names and give this to my kids? Very well done. This message resonates with parents everywhere.
Wow. Nicely said. I hear your sentiments exactly! Maybe I’ll just call you up when I need some heartfelt writing done!
I remember when you were expecting…we had just graduated and were on our way to college! 10 years this year-that’s scary.
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