Today our Jedi turns 7. I’ve been in a subtle state of shock all day, thanks in part to Facebook’s time-machine reminder of a picture I posted of him as a newborn baby, still covered in that miraculous gak. Maybe that’s why we called him Zac. No, probably not. But still. Maybe.
Emily did a fine job (as always) of getting his gifts months in advance. I played a minimal role since she’s a pro and doesn’t need my head to nod for much when it comes to gift giving. I wish I was a good gift getter. It simply doesn’t come naturally to me. To put it simply: I’m a very good not good gift getter.
What did I do? I bought him a Chia-pet on the way home from the office, because every kid should have a Chia-something, with emphasis on the prefix Chia. In this case, it was a Chia-Spider-Man-Crawling-Up-A-Brick-Wall. I got it from a drugstore, since that’s where you find that kind of stuff. Ibuprofen, mass market Skittles, and Chia-items. We’d do fine on a deserted island, as long as there’s a Walgreens on one corner. Any corner would do.
I didn’t tell my son I bought him a houseplant, since that would be borderline abuse. I did tell him, however, that I bought him a science experiment endorsed by a respected, albeit fictional, scientist-ish authority named Peter Parker. The experiment begins tomorrow.
This is the part where I say “I can’t believe he’s this old” and “time flies” and “I regret the Chia-” but I think that goes without saying. I’m proud to be dad to such an awesome kid. I love you, Zac.
