Holy shitstain, Mr. Z's turning 10!
Man, it seems like it was only yesterday that I took that picture of our visit to the exploding prune factory.
His actual birthday is tomorrow, but we had a little shindig over the weekend -- the boy invited his friend Mr. J over for a movie/Wii-marathon/sleep-over-aganza on Saturday. I'm telling ya, that's the way to go, my friends. One guest, take 'em to a movie, no Caesarland, no goodie-bags, throw some pizza and cake at 'em, plop 'em in front of the Wii for nine or ten hours, and then let 'em crash. Party done, who needs a ride home?
Of course, the Old Lady outdid herself in the cakery department:
And like the Old Lady, it was sweet, spectacular and moist. (And tasted even better with milk.)
Actually, the Old Lady was having a bit of a bout with tummy-turmoil on Saturday (I promised her I wouldn't write about her shart-scare in bed on Friday night) so I took Mr. Z, Mr. J and Miss O to the movie. We saw Wall-E, which I have to say was the FUCKING SHIT! If you haven't seen the film, go now. STOP READING THIS AND GO! GO ON!!! I was blown away by it, visually, emotionally and fucking execution-ly. I was laughing, crying, farting -- I ran the whole gamut of emotions. Toward the end, when things looked a bit dark for our little robot friend, I looked over at Miss O and she was quietly weeping -- it was the most adorable thing I've ever seen. Luckily, SPOILER ALERT, things worked out and she wiped away the tears and said, "That was the best movie I've ever seen!" And I have to agree -- it was Wall-E-normously entertaining.
Tomorrow, we'll just do a little family birthday with presents thing. We got him a coupla Wii games, the new "Mysterious Benedict Society" book, some Pokemon cards, a Mario t-shirt and a Weird Al CD. The kid loves him some Weird Al. Of course, he has no fucking idea the songs that are being parodied -- he just identifies with the Yankovician genius. Don't we all? Don't we all.
But yeah, 10 fucking years. I've been his dad for a decade. And man, has that boy changed. An adorable but fucking INTENSE baby. And huge. Carrying him around for hours until he fell asleep. How he'd freak out at loud noises. How he always crawled with his ass sticking up in the air -- his knees never touched the ground. Started reading when he was two. Two! That was freaky -- I remember he was taking a shit and he read me a book about ants that he'd never seen before. Then he'd only read reference books -- we own every National Audubon Society book on birds, mammals, fish, reptiles. He was like a reference librarian by age three. Started Montessori and wouldn't hang with any of the kids -- he'd only want to rap with the teachers. Then we moved and he skipped first grade and he was miserable in 2nd grade for awhile. But he bounced back and since then has totally matured every year and now the dude's an amazing little (giant!) man who's going to fucking JR. HIGH in the fall. That boy has come a long-ass way! What an amazing dude he is.
Happy Birthday, Mr. Z! Thanks for letting me be your (crabby)dad!
The Old Lady feels that this occasion calls for the annual Mr. Z birthday salute: