My only son, Parker Day Boles, is fourteen years old today. And I think it is worth mentioning…I still really, really like him.
I mean, this is one likable dude:.jpg)
My sweet man-child, I know how much you love it when I try to yank out the little whisper-hairs above your lip with my fingernails. I know you cherish the fascination I have with your mild-to-moderate-puberty-associated occasional facial acne and blackheads. IT’S JUST SO WEIRD! I can’t keep my hand off of you, babe. You’re magnetic.
It seems like middle school has been a breeze for you. Grades are solid, Secretary of the Thespian Society, member of the National Junior Honor Society, and only that one school suspension for jailbreaking your school assigned laptop so you could play video games and visit unauthorized websites. Hey, we all make mistakes. (some are just WAY STUPIDER than others) But you’ve taken it all in stride, and it has been such a joy to watch you thrive in unexpected ways. I know it is hard for you to believe right now, but I swear to you that this Fortnite business will be incredibly embarrassing some day soon. I know it is difficult for you to imagine a world that does revolve around an oddly dancing avatar with a unicorn backpack, and I know you might think that nothing else will ever motivate you more that the threat of losing Fortnite privileges…but I promise you, the time will come. (So much loot, bro.)
Happy birthday, sweet PBO. I adore you. And of course I will go to the 8th grade dance with you in the spring! All you have to do is ask. Don’t be shy. I have a dress. And I know alllll the dances. You know this.
Love,
MOM
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