"You can still come home/The back shop light stays on/Even though you're grown/You can still come home..." ~ Z. Bryan
I taught you Pig Latin last night. I know, you're nine. And I'm just now getting around to it? Parenting fail #4295.
I'm confident your mother was hoping you'd forget about it overnight. So when "ove-lay ou-yay" were among the first words out of your mouth this morning, she looked at me with an all-too familiar look that let me know she was questioning at least one of her life decisions. Something about a ring, some vows, and being lawfully wedded.
You have just completed third grade. I'm supposed to write a letter to you which you'll open near the end of your senior year, just before graduation. But where to begin?
We had a Nerf war this morning. This, after you arranged your thirteen Nerf guns on the living room floor so that it looked like a photo that a law enforcement agency releases after a major bust.
At some point, you randomly asked, "Daddy, did we ever find the original tablets the ten commandments were written on?" which I had to google. (The whole time thinking, "I doubt it because, if we had, Alabama would have a traveling 'Rededicate to the Slabs' display which visited every school in the state.")
I'm finding it difficult to know what to write. Describing what it's like being your dad is just not possible. You are smart, funny, athletic, sensitive, helpful, kind, silly. The last nine-plus years have been, by far, the absolute best years of my life.
One of my favorite memories of this past year was when you and I went to Camp McDowell together. It turned out one of the dads I was talking to lived not far from us. When I explained which house we lived in, his response was "Oh! Ya'll are the ones who are always outside playing ball."
Yep. That's us.
I hope you remember some of those times. I hope I've been an okay dad. And if you have kids, I hope (and feel) you will be an even better dad than I've been.
I wonder if you'll remember Bluey, the Ninja Kids, and Peppa Pig, the same way I remember Mister Rogers, Fraggle Rock, and Captain Kangaroo.
Right now, you still think girls are gross. (At least you act like you do.). When you finally read this, I wonder if you'll have had your first kiss, first date, first heartbreak.
Will you still be playing baseball, soccer, basketball, flag football? Will your mom ever agree to let you play tackle? Will you even want to?
Will you and Brady still be best friends? You (and we) have been fortunate to have some awesome friends these first nine years. Grayson, Braxton, Xander, Clayton, Madden. Such great kids.
I wish I had some bit of magical advice to give you as you embark on the next phase of your life. Here are some things I have learned:
Smile. Be kind. Appreciate each and every day. Look at the stars. Listen to the sounds of nature. Be yourself. Dogs are awesome. Cats are awesomer. You'll regret way more things you didn't do than things you've done.
Travel. See the world. Talk to other people. Take the trip. Buy the concert tickets. Go to the football game. Don't be a spectator in your own life. Live it. Be the star.
And never, ever, under any circumstancec, root for Auburn, in anything, against anyone, ever.
Before I end, I want to talk a little about your mama. She is a great wife. She is an awesome mother. If I could have hand-picked a mother for you and your sister, I would not have picked one as amazing as yours.
At nine, you still wake up several nights a week calling for her. And she comes to comfort you. Every. Single. Time. I think she has been a room mom for your class at school every year. As I type this, you are cuddling with her in the recliner.
When you finally read this, hopefully you won't still be waking up crying at night. More likely, it'll be your mother and me struggling as we see our firstborn on the verge of graduating.
I wrote this for you. It's not great. But it's something.
Sometimes you'll make mistakes
Just face 'em
You rarely get a second chance
So don't waste 'em
You won't know how it feels to kiss her lips
'Til you taste 'em
You don't have to catch all your dreams
But I hope you always chase 'em
And no matter where you go, how far your roam, how long you're gone, please remember as long as I or your mom are alive, you can always come back home.
Oh, and I-way ove-lay ou-yay, oo-tay, buddy.
I love you, too.
