Happy Birthday Mia

“There’s something like a line of gold thread running through a man’s words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself.”

~John Gregory Brown

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mijita/2148395338/Seven years ago I suddenly became someone different. It happened overnight, from one instant to the next; my identity altered until I found myself scratching the skin of someone new.

Nine months was plenty of time to assemble my courage and thicken my resolve, but there was no aggregate of minutes that could ever hope to truly prepare me for what waited on the other side of that first quiet cry, bouncing from the tiles of the birthing room.

Becoming a father transformed me. Every incident before or since can only stand in shadow.

My natural playfulness and undiluted love for life made me a natural for the role, but I had no idea how much fatherhood would change me until I had the fierce instinct to protect, clotting my blood alongside an adamant need to nurture.

Mia made me a father. She is a remarkable child, and I stand in constant awe of who she is and who she is gradually becoming.  To celebrate Mia’s 7th birthday, I would like to mention just a few of the many things I love about her.

  • Minute for Minute lived on this Earth, Mia is the most articulate person I know. Her questions often arrive under my radar, and she answers inquiries I never even knew I had.
  • Mia is a constant storm of creativity. Around our casa, we call her a tornado… this is not necessarily a compliment.  She scatters her projects across our life with chaos organized only in her mind.  We are on her about this poor habit like white on rice, but between all of you and me, I find her hurricane of work somewhat of a wonder.
  • Mia is beautiful.  I understand beauty is found less in the face then it is in the heart, but Mia looks enough like her mother to remind me of the fact every time I am bold enough to get lost in her eyes, and enough like me to cripple me with the thought that I could take part in the creation of something so stunning.
  • Mia is a generous soul.  She is unbelievable happy and spreads her cheer to others with the chirpiness of a songbird.
  • Mia is determined.  If there is a problem, she will find a way to solve it, and if the solution lies just out of her reach, then Mia will find a way to climb.

I love Mia’s confidence. Last week, when Cindy and I were teaching our writer’s workshop at Mia’s school, we asked our students to list three adjectives that described them. Mia was part of the workshop, but not called upon to answer. Later, at home, Cindy and I looked at her list: smart, beautiful, and loving, she said.

You’re absolutely right, Mia.  I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Happy Birthday, Bunny.  I love you.

Writer Dad

Daisy wishes Mia a happy birthday as well. Butterflies are Free.

Bright Ideas

“Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton asked why.”

~Bernard Baruch

Some of you might remember my good friend Lucas, though most of you probably will not.  The last time Lucas was here, his words were reviewed on eldietario and he got all giddy.  He’s been wanting to return ever since.

I keep telling Lucas he’s only ten years old, and should be directing attention elsewhere.  Attention, he said, is exactly what he wants.  The thing about Lucas is that he never tires of asking questions (his parents must not believe in baby talk), and wants to ask them in front of as many people as possible.

Though there are fewer readers of this blog than students at Abraham Lincoln K-8, the last time Lucas had them assembled in a single location, he was suspended for three straight days.  Without further ado, here’s Lucas.  I told him if today went well, he could come back and do it again.

Lucas Bright :  I Know I’m Special!

My name is Lucas Bright.  Grown-ups say I’m smart.  They taught me to ask questions.  I’m gonna go ahead and start.

Life can be confusing.  There are a million different rules, a million different lessons, and a million different schools.

The ones I find most baffling are those that don’t agree.  They make me feel like I must pull a five from only three.

Earth keeps whirling round and round.  Sometimes it’s overwrought, with six and one half billion of us, all with different thought.

I have never had a question that every one of us is equal, but I’d like to crawl out on a limb and hand that thought a sequel.

If NONE of us are stronger, then how can we give assistance, to those of us who life’s seen fit to offer some resistance?

Perhaps we all should work a bit toward changing this expression, and then we might be able to advance that old impression.

You see, special means exceptional – or better than the rest, but if everyone is special, that means that no one is the best.

Life’s colors aren’t that black and white, they’re really rich and vivid.  Now remember I am just a child, so PLEASE do not get livid.

But if someone knows they’re smarter and they know it from inside, is that the type of feeling that they should have to hide?

Why don’t we let them celebrate?  Let’s hear ‘em shout it loud.  Let them tell the world what makes them stand out in a crowd.

But there’s a cost to all the crowing, a piper they must pay.  When they get that they are gifted, they should build a brighter day.

It’s like when those who have large muscles help out those a little weak, or when those who have loud voices speak for those who cannot speak.

I know that we’re all even when it comes to being special, but is it fair to ask if we all share the same potential?

Now here’s the way I see it (keep in mind I’m just a kid, and despite my parent’s wishes, often speak without a lid).

If the world is filled by those who can, and those who can’t as well, then those who can should KNOW they can, then HELP OTHERS to excel.

No matter who you are, there’s always someone who is more.  If we recognize our cans and cant’s, then everyone can score.

I can help all those who need it.  Others can help me.  Like the waist and foot together are reliant on the knee.

So the next time someone says to me, “Hey Lucas, you’re so smart.”  I’ll be glad that we can tell our subtle differences apart.

It’s okay that we have them.  It’s okay they exist.  It’s not doing all we can with what we have we should resist.

Writer Dad (and Lucas)

If you enjoyed these words, please subscribe (for free) by RSS or Email.  I tweet here, and Stumble here.  Thanks.

Please note:  Lucas Bright is not really ten years old, or even alive at all. He is purely a figment of Writer Dad’s imagination.  He has many adventures, and this isn’t the first one written, but it is the one where he explains where he is coming from.