August is a big month for my family. In addition to the back-to-school hoopla– Both Taylor and I start the last week of the month– there are two birthdays. Taylor’s birthday is August 31st and mine is a week before that. This year he will be six years old and I will be I don’t want to talk about it years old.
Like most kids, Taylor has been dropping not-so-subtle hints as to what he’d like for his birthday. “I want a trampoline. The big one with the walls and the roof so you can’t fly out.” And like most kids, this list varies by day; Every time a commercial comes on for a New Shiny Object That You Must Have it gets added to his birthday wish list.
So today, unable to keep track of his many requests because of my impending (as in, two weeks from today) senility, I asked him to make a list of the top five things he wants for his birthday. He asked me to make one as well but let me share his first:
In case you’re not fluent in Five-Year-Old, that says: 1.) new skateboard, 2.) trampoline, 3.) chest hair, 4.) my own desk, and 5.) my own T.V.
Wait. Let’s back up a second. CHEST HAIR?!?! We then launched into a long discussion about how most grown men loathe their chest hair and it’s probably not something he should wish upon himself at six years old. But he is adamant. Chest hair. A thick, luxurious breastplate carpet.
And then I shared my list with him…
I’m sure a lot of parents can understand me when I say I literally could not think of anything else I want besides twelve uninterrupted hours of sleep. I have not had that in at least eight years and if that one birthday request was granted (which, let’s just say don’t bet on it) I would probably poop rainbows and butterflies for the next eight years. It’s all I want, really. Sleep.
However, I am now tempted to fill in slots 2-5 with “A son who does not have chest hair at six years old.”