Little Mac turned 8 years old last week, and what a party week it has been.  As I type this, a bunch of Mac’s friends are watching Hotel Transylvania, eating pizza, and shouting things.  Though they get crazy, I don’t intervene, as it appears that they have arranged a functional social structure, not unlike Lord of the Flies.  Kyrie Eleison! 

Mac is 8.  He and I are now entering into common context because I remember events from when I was 8.  “Why, when I was your age, I was 7!”  He doesn’t think this is funny.  I happen to think it’s hilarious.  But I can remember 8 year old Adam’s perspective, and, no, he wouldn’t think that was funny.  Little Adam liked Transformers.  Mac loves superheroes, art, reading, and scheming.  He’s a very smart boy and I am extremely proud of him.  

Happy Birthday, Mac!  I love you and I love being your daddy.  Since we don’t let you surf the internet, you won’t see this, though it is conceivable that you might see it someday.  If so, hi.  Please know that as I was typing this and listening in from the other room, you were surrounded by a bunch of people who were about your height and that you were having fun.