Q: What do you give the boy who has everything? A: Less
My youngest, the blond one (I forget his name), turned 19 this week. Makes me feel old. And for good reason. I am old.
Our Isaac (I remembered) hitting his 19th birthday was accompanied by the usual chorus of rose-tinted sentimentality.
“Eeh, it seems like only yesterday he was soiling his pants and dribbling down his front.”
Judging by the photographs he posts online of his boozesoaked university life, it probably was only yesterday.
Can’t say I’ve ever seen him posting amusing photographs of him and his pals in the university library. Just him in various venues glugging down alcohol like there was no tomorrow.
Unless libraries have changed since I was failing miserably at college. Fewer books, more strobe lighting. Not really the ideal studying environment. The hushed tones of yesteryear, replaced by crashing guitars played at 90 decibels. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear the librarian pictured behind the decks was actively encouraging noise rather than demanding silence.
On reflection, a noisy library would help his studying. A library where a Sergeant Major bellows out the words from text books may help make the facts stick. Particularly if the Sergeant Major applied his boot to Isaac’s backside at regular intervals just to press home salient points. I’ll suggest it to the university fellows next week.
After each passing birthday my son enjoys, someone always says it seems like only yesterday he was starting nursery or some other misty-eyed nonsense. I hope he doesn’t feel that way. That would be annoying. It’d be like a murderer coming up to his release date and saying: “Really? Are you sure they want to let me out? It seems like only yesterday that you put me in here.”
Yes, I have lived every one of those 19 years. It’s etched on my face and my bank balance. And that’s not balanced. It toppled like a drunk unicyclist negotiating a cattle grid two decades ago.
Video calling him on his birthday, he was, as ever, quick to compliment. “What’s happening with your beard? You look like a homeless man.”
“Homeless vagabond is the look of 2023,” I told him.
Given the amount of money I’m throwing in his direction to fund his ‘education’ it won’t be long until I really am homeless.
Note to self. Give him less birthday money next year. In the meantime, happy birthday son.