Everything is GO!

The daughter turned eighteen today.

Whoa.

Happy Birthday, Boo.

10 April 1989 & 10 April 2007

Me, yelling from the bathroom: “Wife! Remember how I kept wondering why the toothpaste was so crunchy and kinda funny tasting in the mornings, but not at night?”

The wife, exasperated, from the bedroom: “Yes, you’ve been wondering out loud at me for months and months; and I’m telling you for the last time, there’s nothing wrong with the toothpaste.”

Me, “Yeah. I know that… now.”

While playing catch football with my seven-year-old nephew, Michael (the wife’s sister’s son), I realized what Easter was really all about.

Me, yelling to Michael: “Go long! Farther! Farther!”

Michael, hollering back: “But then I’ll be standing in the street! What if a car comes?”

Me, winding up the old arm and getting ready to toss: “That’s okay! You’re brightly colored! I’m pretty sure they’ll see you!”

Me, throwing the ball to Michael: “Good throw!”

Me, catching the ball from Michael: “Good catch!”

Me, kicking the ball way over Michael’s head: “Good kick!”

Me, catching the ball from Michael: “I shoulda gone pro!”

Me, throwing the ball at Michael and it hitting him on the head, knocking him down: “YES!!! I’ve killed the boy! I’ve killed the boy! I win! I win!”

Me, dancing around Michael as he lies on the ground twitching with the occassional leg spasm: “Woo Hoo! It’s a slow, painful death to boot! I’m the BEST!!!”

Michael, slowly getting up: “And he rises from the dead, just like Jesus.”

Me, throwing the ball at Michael’s groin: “Take that, Jesus!”

Michael, intercepting the ball: “Ya know, Jesus rose today.”

Me, dancing like I’m in the end zone: “This morning? Was that before or after the Easter Bunny came? Did the Easter Bunny have anything to do with it? I’m betting YES!!!”

Michael, throwing the ball to me: “I don’t think so.”

Me, catching the ball and making it look all dramatic and sporty: “Easter Bunny can’t make no catch like that! Only me and Jesus!”

Me, throwing the ball at his mother’s parked SUV and wondering if Michael will dive for the ball, slam into the SUV and knock himself senseless: “Get it, Michael! Get it! Most important pass ever! DIVE!!!”

Michael catches the ball, slams into the SUV and falls to the ground with the wind knocked out of him.

Me, thrusting my fists into the air: “TOUCHDOWN!!! Mark throws a perfect pass and wins the game and saves the world! Hear them shout: ‘Mark! Mark! Mark!’”

Michael, getting up, removing the gravel from his bare knees, and throwing the ball to me: “I caught the ball. How come they’re not shouting my name?”

Me, catching the ball with my LEFT hand: “Too many syllables! Mark! Mark! Mark!”

Me, throwing the ball at Michael’s eye: “Why did Jesus rise from the grave?”

Michael, catching the ball while standing perfectly still and looking very serious: “Revenge.”

Complete silence. No birds. No bugs. No noise whatsoever.

Me, with a single drop of sweat glistening upon my brow: “Revenge? Against who?”

Michael, looks at me, raises his arm and points directly at his three-year-old sister, Olivia: “HER.”

Me, quietly and respectfully: “Go, Jesus.”