Today is Easter and April Fool’s Day.
Today is also my baby boy’s twentieth birthday.
I know I am no different than any other mother who feels like time didn’t treat us fairly when it comes to our kids. Time made them adults at a much faster rate than feels fair. But it feels like it’s different for me. That time went just a little faster for me.
My baby boy isn’t a baby. He’s an all grown up man.
Joey has always been precocious. He read Animal Farm before he started Kindergarten. He performed stand up for the neighbors at age 7. He started speaking before he was a year old.
Sometimes, it’s possible, that the torrent of words that flowed from my baby boy’s face hole could be exhausting.
I remember a day when he was around 4 years old when that flow of words tumbled out at a faster rate than usual. Frankly, I was surprised the kid was still conscious, one does have to take a breath every now and then.
I couldn’t take any more, so I told him he was going to use up all his words.
Joey: What do you mean?
Me: Well, everyone is assigned a specific number of words they can say during their life and if you use them all up now, then you won’t be able to talk when you’re an old man.
He stared at me with a look that said “you are a dumb ass.”
Joey: That’s preposterous.
Me: Those big words count as two, you know.
He was about the same age when we ran into my boss at a restaurant and, after listening to him for a few minutes, Joey told my boss he was supercilious. My boss challenged him to tell him what that word meant. Joey rolled his eyes and spoke slowly. “It means you think you’re better than everyone else.” And in the next breath, he asked my boss if we could go to his house and play Xbox. He may have had a good vocabulary, but he still had the diplomacy of a 4 year old.
Here’s Joey around age 8.
And here is a recent picture where he looks remarkably like Orlando Bloom.
Happy Birthday, baby boy.