And we sang…
Her: Logan – your son just read an email on my phone!
Me: Oh. Yeah. He reads.
Her: You need to get him tested!
Me: (slowly nodding) So I’ve been told…
When he was two, I used to brag to all the other parents that he could read a word or two.
Now, I rarely mention it because that’s not what I want him to be known as; as someone different and odd.
But he has another characteristic that I am glad that people notice:
Another mother: I’m sending you these pics because he’s SUCH a happy boy!
Me: These are great, thank you!
Her: It’s such a joy hearing his laugh.
Gotta say, I wasn’t prepared for him to be able to read or do math this early. But I think I was more prepared for that than…how happy this kid is.
Man, lemme tell you, if you’re on the Upper West Side and you hear a kid laughing loudly and singing, “Joy to the world” on the top of his lungs, that’s my kid.
That’s nuts because – man – you don’t know the house of horrors this kid grew up in.
Take all your fears for the one you love the most in the world and imagine those fears come true. That was our life for years.
If I’m proud of anything, I’m proud at my ability – and that of my mother-in-law – to hide alla the horror in our lives from him.
We should get a goddamn Oscar.
Swear, I could be fly like DeNiro and kill like Pacino. At least in one acting gig. But, at some point, you do gotta break character.
Him: Are you ok, papa?
Me: (quickly wiping eyes) Of course I am. Don’t be silly. I just … got lost in my head for a bit.
Him: (laughing) You can’t get lost in your head!
Me: (sighing) You’d be surprised, kid. (brightening) You’d be surprised.
Still, the fact that he’s as happy as he is, is my absolute proudest achievement, above and beyond any award or prize I’ve ever earned or could earn.
If he’s a happy, healthy, and productive toddler/boy/teen/young adult/man, then I did my job.
The guard dies, contently, knowing that he did his job.
Me: What do you want to eat?
Him: Can I have ice cream?
Me: That’s a lotta carbs but you were good today. Ok, you’ll get it if you do two things for me. First is tell me what time it is.
Him: (looking at clock) It’s 5:55.
Me: How many minutes until 6PM?
Me: Yes! OK, second – sing me the chorus to Coachella.
Him: (laughs, sings) “In your head it’s Coachella every weekend…”
Location: in my head, dreaming of lost chances, Coachella, and my possible pasts again
Music: I miss the way that you laughed with me