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You turned four last week.  

I wish I could write something grand, something worthy of your first four years, the joy you have brought to our lives and all the things we have learned from you.  But I cannot.

You are too sweet for this world.  A wonderful big brother to Harper.  You have been a wonderful child, our joy and pride.  And I don't know if you will remember this time of COVID, but you are a champ at wearing your mask.  It is normal for you.  You wear it far more willingly (and properly) than many adults.

You love garbage trucks and trains. You dressed up as a garbage truck for Halloween, thanks to some amazing handiwork by your mommy.  The getup included a fluorescent yellow vest which you wore every day for over two weeks, even putting it on over your pajamas to sleep in at night.

Every Tuesday if you're home, you take your toy garbage truck out onto the sidewalk with all your trash cans (and trash).  When the garbage man arrives, you proceed to mimic his actions, grabbing each can with your grabber arm, emptying it into your hopper, then setting it back down before moving along to the next.  All the while you are making garbage truck noises.  

The garbage man waves and honks.  He knows you, oh yes he does, to the extent that he was able to set up your four-year photo shoot at the local sanitation department, or as you call it, "where the garbage trucks sleep."  

"Garbage man Shane" even bought you a toy garbage truck, put official city sanitation stickers on it, filled it with candy, and gave it to you for your birthday.  And even though you have a fancier garbage truck at home, you solely played with the one the garbage man gave you for two weeks.

The years have flown, little buddy.  Oftentimes I find myself staring at you in amazement. 

You're perfect.  All your bones still unbroken.  Your innocence intact.  And so very many dreams have you yet to dream. 

I cannot help but wonder what the future holds...

When I am sixty-six, and you are twenty-three
Let me still remember the joy you were to me
Those golden curls, the morning snuggles
All your triumphs and your struggles

Story times and nursery rhymes
And the songs that we would sing
Jesus loves you, this you knew
From a very early age

When for me November comes
And your summer's just begun
I'll always be your biggest fan
Please come to visit when you can

When I am sixty-six, and you are twenty-three
I will still remember that perfect boy upon my knee
However far you wander, whatever you believe
But for now, just be four, for as long as you can be...

Decision 2020

As (alleged) adults, we are faced with difficult choices this time of the year.  The consequences of said choices can have long-lasting effects.  And though we do our best, we may find ourselves guilt-ridden due to the choices we make.

That's where I come in.  Not to help you make your decision, but rather, to help you justify your choices.  

I hereby present Bone's Stealing Halloween Candy from Your Kid Justification Guide.  Today I will provide you with reasons to abscond with your child's (nephew, niece, grandkid, neighbor's kid, etc.) Halloween candy, while also mentioning a couple of treats that should be find for your child to consume.  Using my own child's stash as a prototype, I will proceed to go through this piece by piece.  

Tootsie Roll ~ There is no other chocolate that tastes quite like a Tootsie Roll.  You ever thought about that?  Why has no one duplicated this unique taste?  What's in it?  What aren't they telling us?  So while extremely delicious, this just doesn't seem safe.

Life Savers ~ The ironically named candy can and has contributed to death by choking.  More than three people are thought to have died from this throughout history.  Now, I totally just made up that number because a Google search provided no such statistics.  So while you can't prove that it's true, your child also most likely can't prove that it isn't true.

Mounds ~ Many children may have an undiagnosed coconut allergy.  (Or a diagnosed coconut allergy, in which case giving them a Mounds would likely leave you facing criminal charges.)

Almond Joy ~ Even if you were to risk the coconut allergy, the almond is a big no-no.  Choke city.

Smarties ~ While never having been proven to make anyone smarter, these hard nuggets of deliciousness are terrible for your teeth.  And your child will only ever have one set of teeth.  Well, besides the set they get when their baby teeth fall out, but they don't need to know that, yet.

Reese's ~ Here's the thing: Once your child has a Reese's, there is very little left for them to look forward to in life.  You?  It's too late for you.  You know there's nothing else.  Let them be little, forgodsake!

Milk Duds ~ Known in some remote areas of Kazakhstan as "Delicious Child Chokers."  Need I say more?

Butterfinger ~ If you did give your child a Reese's, then one of the only things left for them to look forward to (besides sex and wine), is a Butterfinger.  Again, don't let them peak too early.

Any sort of homemade treat ~ If you're like me, you have a real problem eating food made by people you don't know.  But kids?  Kids eat anything and everything -- dirt, Play-doh, paper, any number of unidentified foodstuffs from off the floor.  And you know what?  They've survived.  Enough with the helicopter parenting, Gladys!  If Mrs. Taylor down the street isn't necessarily a bastion of cleanliness, chances are your child won't even notice.

Three Musketeers ~ Have you read this novel?  Well, me neither, but according to Wikipedia, it includes violence, seduction, and execution.  I mean, you may as well let your kids play violent video games.  Or watch television.  As d'Artagnan might have said, thou savest this deliciousness for thine own self.

Whoppers ~ Whopper -- another word for "lie."  So unless you want to feed your kid a bunch of lies, steer clear here.

Skittles ~ Skittles is Scandinavian for orthodontic nightmare.  No child likes to go to the dentist, so why make them go any earlier than they have to?  I don't plan on taking mine until they're at least twelve.

Fig Newtons ~ Soft, chewy, somewhat healthy, taste a little like cardboard........  Yeah, these should be fine.

Laffy Taffy ~ No.  Never.  These chewy candies are teeming with made-to-order Dad jokes!  But my child can't read, you say.  Well, perhaps you should have them open a book rather than another piece of candy.

Twix ~ Do you really want to introduce your child to caramel this early in their life?  Early onset diabetes here we come.  However, there are fun games you can play with your child and a Twix.  Have your child point out at least five differences between the Twixes.  Also, ask your child which Twix is the left Twix.  When he/she points to the left one, turn the Twix upside down and yell, "Wrong again, loser!"

Follow me for more life-saving parenting tips.

Er, on second thought, you probably shouldn't

Catfish and COVID

The news came on the first of October:  You had tested positive for COVID-19.  It came via text message from your wife.  She had been keeping us updated as you hadn't felt well all week.  

You didn't want to go to the hospital.  You knew you would be isolated there.  You had underlying conditions, your asthma and your COPD.  I'm sure there was a fear you would never come home.  If I thought it, I'm almost certain you did.

How could you not?  How could anybody?  My last text to you had been about my best friend being in the hospital with the virus after his dad died of it the week before.  

"You'd better go to the doctor before it turns into pneumonia," I heard numerous times growing up. "Son, don't mess around with this stuff, it's dangerous," you had said to me just a few months earlier when I had been sick (and later tested positive for Influenza A).

Yet here you were, doing just what you had cautioned me against my whole life.

We finally convinced you, and the following Monday you were admitted.

Talking to you that week was all we could do.  You sounded down, on the verge of despondent.  They had you on oxygen.  Your daughter sounded so worried.  Every time we spoke it seemed she was on the verge of tears.  I was worried, too.  But I tried to hide it for her sake.  

Not even six weeks ago you and I had gone to lunch for your birthday -- your seventieth.  We'd eaten at a familiar catfish restaurant.  The food was a long time coming, but it turned out to be a good thing.  We talked.  You mentioned, almost in passing, about your father putting your mother in the hospital.  You had never mentioned this to me.  I had tried not to act surprised so as to not discourage anything else you might be about to share.

You tend to remember specific moments in life, moreso than days or weeks or years.  And that is a moment I will always remember.

It was at this same meal we talked about my anxiety and how I had gone on meds last year for it, at long last, and how much better my quality of life was now.  You told me that you had been on anxiety meds for years.  This was another thing that was previously unbeknownst to me.  Inside I was frustrated that you had not told me before now.  Did you not realize how that knowledge might have helped me?

How had we lived all these years as father and son and it was just now that I was hearing these things for the first time?  Was it my fault?  Maybe you just assumed you had told me at some point?

These were the things I thought about now, as you lay miles away in a hospital bed.  We sent you pictures of the kids.  Videos.  Anything that might keep you from becoming discouraged.

There is a lot I don't understand about you, Dad.  I don't understand your rabid support for Trump.  I couldn't help but think that had caused you to not take the virus seriously.  You and your wife had gone to Tennessee for dinner the very first night they reopened restaurants because Alabama's were still carry-out only.  You were always going somewhere, it seemed.  "I'm not going to stop living my life," you had said.  

Now I prayed only that you would have a lot more life left to live.

On Wednesday, news came that you might get to come home before the weekend.  On Thursday, they took you off the oxygen.  On Friday, you were released.

You still sound weak, wiped out.  There is a still a long road ahead.  But you are home, to watch your Fox News and post your political rants and memes on Facebook.

We don't talk politics much.  People are far more important than politics.  I know that no matter how far apart we may be on the issues, you will still come over to help me patch up the roof, mend the fence, or work on the car.

You overcame a lot, Dad.  A father who committed suicide and was an abusive husband, for starters.  Open-heart surgery.  Hip replacement.  Smoking.  An emergency tracheotomy.  And now, COVID-19.

Surely you can survive a son that is trying to raise his kids to say and do pretty much the exact opposite of everything your beloved Trump says and does.

I hope so.  I want them to have their grandfather around for a lot more years, to have a chance to get to know you better.  It's a chance I never had, as mine had both passed on by the time I was three.

Thanks for still being here, Dad.  Let's have some more catfish soon.