This happened eight years ago today.
Deal is a special little boy. He’s eight today. The number 8 is Infinity when turned on its side. How fitting that he brings us infinite joy.
That little hand peeking out of the blanket still sits tucked under his chin as this little light of mine ponders and observes. He is a thinker. Looking at this picture tells me he was born this way. My mom calls him Einstein for good reason. He’s the real deal, hence the nickname Deal. We really do call him that.
There is none sweeter than this boy. We’ve won the sugar dumpling lottery with him. Deal is the child who sits next to the kid who gets picked on at lunch. He’s the one who will leave a soccer game at recess to play with the kids who weren’t picked to play. His heart is large, and his compassion endless. Deal, by nature, embraces, not only accepts. I’d like to take credit for this gentle, tenderhearted disposition. But some things are simply inherent. Admittedly, I worry that his gentle demeanor will fuel bullies. He’s a child who fiercely stands up for others but never himself. His big heart cracks easily.
Deal is our resident Messy Marvin. Don’t go in his room without wearing shoes. There are LEGO grenades all over the place. Consider yourself warned. He is a prolific builder (in fact, he just finished a 300 piece LEGO set in less time than it’s taken me to write two paragraphs). Our playroom is overrun with LEGO bricks, Kapla planks, Haba blocks, Lincoln Logs, and a veritable trash heap of paper towel rolls and egg cartons. Deal uses every last one to masterfully create whole cities, a Wipe Out course, and imaginary worlds. His favorite class was an architecture elective taught by the most marvelous teacher. At age eight, he has already set his sights on MIT because he wants to study engineering. I can’t wait to report back in ten years to tell you what happens.
I could wax on about my boy. There is much to boast about. This sort of love and pride is universal among parents. We see in our children the gift of promise, of hope, of unfettered joy. Being a parent gives us license to be giddy and goofy, traits that so sadly wane as we grow older. Our children keep us young, though they also paradoxically give us gray hair.
When you look at Deal, you’ll likely see him swaying to the music that plays in his head or even in the elevator. He is constantly moving and humming. He’ll recite artist names and song titles like an old school DJ. His taste in music varies. Deal likes classics like The Beatles and Elton John and poppy stuff that plays on the radio. He’s often singing about poppin’ some tags and wishes he had $20 in his pocket. I’d like for you all to help me wish Deal a HAPPY BIRTHDAY. He’s discovering his own taste in music so help me create a playlist. Tell Deal what songs every eight year boy should have queued up.
I’ll start with…
Speed of Sound by Coldplay, song #57 of the Billboard top 100 songs in the year Deal was born
I love you, little nut. You are the Real Deal.