Graduation

 

Just like that, Elijah is a high schooler. 

His grade school career ended like most things this year, with a hearty “Meh.” I think there is a virtual graduation ceremony happening. I think we’ll watch, but knowing Eli he’ll have a second screen dedicated to “Grey’s Anatomy” going the whole time.

Eli is almost through all seventeen seasons of the hospital drama. 369 episodes. 15,000 minutes (not counting two hour season cliff hangers). It’s arguably his greatest achievement in grade school. I, for one, am proud of him. Maybe he’ll become a doctor. Or Patrick Dempsey.

We don’t put a ton of pressure on the boys, school wise. As my Dad used to say, “As long as YOU feel like you tried, I don’t care what grades you get.” That bit of psychology scared me into straight A’s. Eli’s approach has been a little more in the “Hey, I woke up. That’s trying” variety.

Like all smart/lazy kids, he has been experimenting with how much to actually try. Midway through the year, his grades slipped into C’s. Diana and I had to apply the requisite threats of no more “Grey’s Anatomy” until grades came up. So he applied foot to the gas ever so slightly and pow, all A’s. 

He’s got it in him. I am hoping a Michelle Pfeiffer in “Dangerous Minds” style teacher will inspire him. My own English teacher once said I was “The greatest waste of potential I have ever seen.” And now I am an Executive Creative Director of a multi-billion dollar packaged goods company. So there.

I’m not worried about Eli in high school. He’s a great kid. He’s sweet smart and genuinely cares about other people. Call me a slacker, but I think that’s all he really needs to know in life. Plus, he hacked into Diana’s email and sent me a note reading, “Hey Rick, let’s get Eli a super expensive Lego for graduation.” He’ll be fine.

Most importantly, when asked in first grade what he wanted to be when he grew up, his response was “Happy.” 

I love you, pal. Congratulations. 

14!

Bad blogger! Bad! Bad!

I have this note on my desk that reads, “HAMANNEGGS!” But it’s faded into the giant pile of Simpsons toys, ukuleles, heart medication, old tires and raccoons cluttering my space. 

But I’m here to tell you about Elijah’s golden birthday, not quite a month late. Just pretend it’s April 15th. You’ve just gotten your first vaccine, you’re looking forward to a balmy May, you can’t wait for Chadwick Boseman go win his well-deserved Oscar…

Eli knows I lack the ability observe the world around me enough to know what to purchase for birthdays or weddings or anniversaries. He manipulated my hand on my mousepad to purchase the exact items he wanted. Which was fine because I kind of wanted all the Legos and toys and Nerf guns he got anyway. I’m almost 50.

This was Eli’s golden birthday. I recently realized this wasn’t a universal thing. The golden birthday is when your birth date matches your age. 14th…14. When my twin and I turned 16 on the 16th, my mom invited a hundred kids over to our house for hot dogs, soda and a live performance from our high school’s notorious punk band. Our neighbors never spoke to us again.

Eli asked that we decorate the living room in gold for him. This was Diana’s secret dream. Redecorating our home in the style of Donald Trump’s toilet. She went to the party store and cleaned them out of gold streamers, gold balloons, gold balls, gold necklaces and, for reasons that are obvious, a gold cape and cowboy hat.

It was gaudy, blinding, and completely unnecessary. In other words, perfect.

Per Eli’s wishes, we ordered Chipotle catering. It’s been his dream since he was a baby to eat lukewarm cubes of beef from a giant foil tray. Since we ordered enough food to kill me four times over from salt intake, we invited both sets of neighbors, which is always a friggin delight. 

Kids ran around, teens lurked in the shadows and parents plowed through wine. Oh, and Jerry was a cute little pest. It was a perfect birthday.

 Eli, I’ve said this to you after too much wine, but let me reiterate sober: You are an amazing kid. You are so kind, so wonderful, so funny. You have a big heart and literally everyone on the planet loves you.

Especially me.