Celebrating My Son

I have to admit that this post is somewhat of a reaction to the dare my son offered me. He was being a bit of a stinker -- those of you who know him will find that shocking to say the least -- and posted something potentially embarassing to his cousin on her "My Space" comments. I asked him, "How would you feel if I posted something embarassing about you on my blog for everyone to read?" His response is what turned into the dare.

"I wouldn't mind," he answered in the self assured, cocky way that only a 16 year old can muster, "no one reads your blog."

Okay, the wheels immediately started turning in my head. After I protested that at least eight people have left comments on my blog (wait a minute, I think that's seven) and besides that I know of two people that read it but don't comment (parents count), after I'd filled him in on those earth shattering statistics, I began imagining my next post.

Now I could tell some genuinely embarassing stories, but since I still have to live with the boy for at least two more years, I think I'll stick to some benign little stories from his early childhood.

We knew this child had real potential for style when he was still a young tot. One day I was in Safeway ordering something at the bakery. My boy, wearing his shorts & cowboy boots, stood at my side. A man waiting behind me apparently didn't know the child was dressing himself these days. He waited until I turned around and then informed me, "His boots are on the wrong feet." "That's nothing," I said, "his shirt & shorts are on backwards too."

He must have been about four then, but that keen fashion sense had already shown itself at the tender age of two. It was in October and we'd recently bought a McDonald's Happy Meal that had come in a pumpkin bucket. Most folks probably assumed it was for "Trick-or-treating" but my boy knew how to think out of the box, or bucket. He took off the little lid and put that pumpkin bucket on his head with the handle tucked underneath his chin. Then he set out with Scott for a spin around the block on his big wheel. Sure, anyone can wear a helmet. It takes a real Dapper Dan to wear a pumpkin bucket.

My last story took place when he was in the 4's & 5's at church. His teacher used to choose one boy and one girl each week as the good helpers. He came home with the "Good Boy" helper one Sunday. I was told later that his teacher liked to make all the kids guess who she'd chosen by giving them clues. She gave them this clue for my boy, "This little boy looks like he was in such a hurry for church this morning that he forgot to comb his hair." As soon as the words left her mouth, the class YELLED out his name. We took him for a professional haircut the next morning.

Now that his hair is always gelled and he takes all his showers voluntarily, it's hard to remember the days he never combed his hair and came back from camp with all his underware still folded. The boy's growing up.