The boy turns 13

Both of us are shrugging, having expected this transition to be more momentous, teenager and aging parent-of-teenager that we now are. I did pin him down and check his armpits for hair, which they didn't have. He posed for a birthday picture by making hork face. I caught him looking normal just afterward.

Awww, he's got my grimace.

We ate pre-birthday Thai takeout with my mother, and the kids largely ignored my traditional gruesome retelling of Gavin's birth - which started with my sudden and urgent demand for Thai food, and the restaurant owner who knowledgeably informed my mother that if I was yelling for Thai food, I would have the baby that night. I did. The kids have all heard this story, so over the years I have had to add pantomime and gross exaggeration to keep them interested. By now it goes like this:

And then the doctor FINALLY came in, still half asleep and in his pajamas, shuffling with his arms outstretched like a zombie as the nurse swooped him into a gown and snapped gloves on his hands, and just then the baby SHOT out PEEEEEW and the doctor just casually caught him like a football and held him up, yawning, "It's a boy." And granny clapped her hands in delight and cried, "Oh! He looks just like Danny Devito!"

Common phenomenon, actually

Mike always tells the bit about how my stomach turned into a perfect square during a crucial contraction, and my mother likes to mention that it was she who dragged me bodily off the toilet when I decided that it was the only comfortable place to deliver the baby. Leif does all the sound effects. Gavin likes the small things, like how he held his head up and wobbled around looking at us all, and how he had soft tufts of hair on the tips of his ears like a cat.

The first real sign of teen-hood appeared when I took him to the bakery to buy a few dozen donut holes for his robotics team (the 6 kids in his group). I dropped him off at the workshop with the big box of pastries, turned the truck around, and before pulling out of the parking lot he had texted me three messages - "5 left", "2", and "They're gone." Holy shit. Next time I'll bring a garbage bag full of chips and oreos.

There was cake and loot and a disaster with his miniature tree crashing off the table. There will be Star Wars and arcade shenanigans this weekend. I don't brag about my kid very often, so let me do it now: Gavin is kind and funny and loving. He adores cats and doesn't give a shit. If people tease him, he laughs and makes nyan noises. He reads fantasy novels and listens to D&D podcasts and hyperventilates with excitement in role playing stores. This child has been telling us that he would be a robot maker since the age of 4, and now in his first 6 months in robotics, his team has won two competitions and he's won two individual Think awards for his programming. If they continue their winning streak through state championships, he'll be flying to Kentucky for Nationals. If he nails it at Nationals, he'll be off to China for the world championships. His robotics teacher took us aside and whispered, "He is such a neat kid. He gets it - he could be a world champion." My head exploded in pride. He's going to cost us so much money. And I'm so excited for him as he heads into this new adolescent landscape.

Happy birthday, baby boy.