Six…Going On Sixteen


Some day, you may read these words. Some day, when you’re much older, you can look back at the years of your life and laugh or reminisce about your childhood. 

These words are written days before you turn six. 

Each year that passes brings another evolution of your world and how your mother and I weave through it. 

You are full of energy and endless wonder.

You are intensely curious, asking questions about the weather, storm clouds, tornadoes, video games and Legos. 

You absolutely love being around other children. Their age relative to yours matters very little, you’re just a social butterfly. 

You still love music, and, through the wonders and algorithms of YouTube, you’ve drifted somewhat further from the rock and punk that I exposed you to and the pop and show tunes that you hear from your mother, into some form of techno that isn’t quite danceable but is suitable for the video games you play. 

You love fishing with your Papa Al.

You love amusement parks that you get to see with your mother and your Nana.

You love playing in the sink at your Mula’s flower shop where you can concoct your next science experiments.

You love puppy dogs, kitty cats and any animal that you’re allowed to pet. 

You still love to play your drum set, and despite not having a single lesson, you’re learning how to find a beat. 

You have an insatiable sweet tooth and it’s not uncommon for you to ask for a meal that we make and you barely eat. 

You’ve gone from just being a spectator at Dad’s gym to a little boy with big strength when it comes to lifting weights. 

You still love your “big brother” Jackson more than probably any child has ever loved a sibling.

You’re only weeks away from starting kindergarten, a journey that neither your mother or I are mentally prepared for. 

You are fascinated by science and space and you have your father’s tendency to obsess over things that interest you. 

There are times that your mother and I look at you and say: He’s getting so big…because you are, but you’re still our little boy. 

Some day, I hope you look back and see all that is done to give you a good life. You don’t really see that now, but someday you might. 

Your mother moves heaven and earth for you as any child deserves. 

Dad just works and works because it puts food on the table and a roof over our head.

Some day, you may do the same for a family of your own. 

But I have to remind myself, you’re only about to be six, not sixteen, and that I’m getting ahead of myself. 

So, as we lean in to this next chapter of your life and your childhood, it’s with the hope that starting school where you’ll be away from your mother for more time than you’ve ever experienced, will be a life changing experience. 

As these things go, you’ve certainly changed ours.

And in keeping this current with the times, as all of your pet names have changed, I’ll finish this by saying:

Happy Birthday and we love you, “Fart Face”.