SIXTEEN

Today is the first of the semiannual weep fests known as my children's birthdays.  The Professor turns sixteen today.  For one day at least I'm able to see past the pimples and 5'10" frame, ignore his constant jokes about genitalia, and put from my mind the fact that he's now legally allowed to drive a car.  For 24 hours I remember the little boy obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine, dinosaurs, and aliens.  The kid who compulsively watched Jurassic Fight Club, Monster Quest, and Primeval.  I remember his various short-lived obsessions like being a spy, collecting paintings from antique stores, and wanting to start a Patridge Family-style band (even though none of us can play anything except the recorder and then nothing more complex than "Hot Cross Buns").  

With Grandma-made Jedi robe.

Photo albums in lap, I took a trip down memory lane to some of his past birthday parties.  There were bears and trains and James Bond-themed soirees.  We did Star Wars and U.F.O.'s and Scooby Doo.  This year's theme was "Give Me Cash and Leave Me Alone."  Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it's definitely been low key.  Friday evening Uncle Chester took him for his traditional gift of a rib dinner at Montgomery Inn.  Saturday was lunch at Applebee's.  In the evening was carry-out Dewey's Pizza with homemade cake and presents and no decorations.  His grandmother gave him cash.  We gave him cash and a dvd he picked out -- a double feature of the B horror movies Psycho Santa and Satan Claus, plus a new hard drive for his computer so he has room for all the videos he downloads.  (I pray they're not porn.  Probably are.)

A chic fedora and a briefcase full of spy gear.

 This morning I'm baking another cake for his actual birthday and he'll be taken out for a steak dinner.  I have one surprise gift.  He loves the song 99 Luftballons and I found a t-shirt at Threadless with the same name that literally has 99 red balloons pictured on it.  Thought he might get a kick out of it.  Or, like many other shirts, he'll never wear it and I'll end up stealing it for myself.

What happened to getting videos
of The Wiggles?

I try not to think about how close we are to high school graduation or dwell on the question of how many years are left when I'll see him on his birthday at all.  How soon before he's too busy with some girl to even show up for his cash or his cake?  Sniff, sniff...  Okay, time to go torture myself with some home videos of a baby in an Exersaucer....

Seems like a week ago.