About two weeks ago, my son and I arrived home from soccer practice to a text from his coach.
“Everett’s?”
A fully-sprawled-opened soccer bag, slides, and red water bottle labeled “Walsh” shown in the picture attached to the text. Laughing, I shot back, “Of course. Not sure how he left practice with NOTHING! lol.”
Maybe I do know why he is so absentminded: he turns eight today.
A few days ago, on the way home from school, Everett asked me, “Your van is bigger than a Mustang, why isn’t it as fast?”
I fumbled through an explanation of a dad who could care less about cars and even less about popping the hood of the minivan to illustrate a point about four versus eight cylinder engines. Everett seemed satisfied with my half-baked answer and moved on quickly.
Staring at him through the rearview mirror, I wondered. ‘Why does he care about crazy, random stuff at totally random times?’
He cares about random facts because, I assume, he’s turning eight today.
Yesterday, during our daily “reading fluency” exercises, Everett became extremely frustrated with the word, “huge”.
“I know how to say it, but always get it wrong because it is spelled weird. Why do they do that?!!??” Everett was beside himself.
I shrugged calmly, “Not sure – just one of those words you have to know. That’s why they put them on here to learn, I guess.”
This kid! Everett gets to the point of fed up before concepts suddenly click. Why does Everett bring himself to the edge of the cliff EVERY (pause) SINGLE (pause) TIME (sigh)?
I have to remind myself that it’s because he’s turning eight today.
Today, before heading out the door to school, Everett devoured three cinnamon rolls and was careful to remind us, “I can’t wait for my birthday dinner before practice tonight! Nachos!” His toothless smile was as broken and uneven as adorable.
Damn, I thought, he’s already turning eight today.
And, just as I readied myself to answer an email before hurrying out the door, I scanned the room to take notice of my surroundings.
My fifteen, thirteen, and twelve year-olds were lost in their phones – consumed by Snapchat stories or emoji-laced group chats with friends.
Sigh.
Emersyn, Everett’s five-year-old sister, blared another episode of the “Zam Fam” on YouTube from behind the book she was supposed to be thumbing through.
Ugh.
“Let’s go!” Everett interrupted my daydreaming, dashing out to the van. I couldn’t blame him for his enthusiasm. He couldn’t wait to see his teacher – it was his eighth birthday and he’d be today’s star in class.
I was jealous of Everett’s to-do list for the day: eat like crap, ask questions out of whimsical curiosity, get frustrated by the most mundane details that we all have memorized as fact, and be utterly carefree (even about forgetting to wear underwear with his mesh Nike shorts).
That’s Everett’s world. I’m grateful for having taken a peek as my little man turns eight today. If only for a moment, the view was spectacular.
Happy Birthday, Everett!
