Nine Years Old

My godson Jimmy and his dad sport their cool glasses (and identical facial expressions).

Yesterday, June 29th, my nephew Jimmy celebrated his 9th birthday. Good on ya, Jim! When we spoke this morning, I said to him, Happy 15th Birthday! And he replied, I wish.

Can you remember a time when you wished -- wished -- you would turn 15? What in the name of God was the attraction? 21, 25, 35 -- yeah. Heck yeah. But 15?

Jimmy has a passion for Spiderman, it's a passion we share actually (Spiderman 2 -- masterpiece), but at age 9 he's already way more connected than I am. Since he was very little, in fact, Jimmy has had a direct line to the webhead's personal cellphone. I know, I know, I must be joking. FOR REAL. I've actually been there when he's called, and heard Spiderman's message. I don't know how his mom and dad got it for him, but I'm telling you, the kid's got friends in high places.

Look out, here comes the Spiderman.


When he was very little he used to tell my mom, I know everything. When she got tired of it, she would try to stump him, she'd say, Did you know that ice is water that has solidified? And he'd say, No, I didn't. But I thought you knew everything, she'd ask. Without missing a beat, his response: I do now. (Think Calvin & Hobbes. I can't wait for the snow sculptures!)




Jimmy loves science and spies and investigating new things. In fact, not too long ago my brother and sister-in-law went to the school class open house. And a father comes up to them and says something like "If you notice my son has a chunk of hair missing, it is because your son has it, so they could test the DNA."

Later my mom calls to ask him about it, how he's going to test it. And he tells her, "Gramma, it's all taken care of; he has a piece of my hair and I have his. I just yanked it out of my head."

Send in the Clones, indeed.

Happy Birthday, Jimmy! I love you! Eat lots of cake for me!