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Rock Star: Dylan
2007-03-27 - 9:56 a.m.

Yesterday was Dylans birthday. He turned 13. I now officially have 2 teenagers. I had been watching a video the other day of Dylans first steps and some footage from when he was one. He was so cute with his slanted eyes and long wispy blonde hair. You could tell heíd have a sly sense of humor even at that age.
Me: Dylan say ďrockĒ

Dylan: ock

Me: say football

Dylan: Foo baalll

Me: Dada

Dylan: dada

Me: mama

Dylan: mama

Me: Kelly

Dylan: (with a sly grin) mama

Me: Kelly

Dylan: Mama
In one clip he was curled up on a rocking chair trying to go to sleep. Iíd say Dylan, donít go to sleep. And he giggles as if to say Oh yes I am. He was a sleeper then. Three naps a day and very hard to keep awake. No, there wasnít anything wrong with him. He was healthy and active. He just really, really liked his naps. He was a very loving boy and liked to hug. He still is although now he has to slug me in the arm afterward as if to say I love you but I still gotta be cool.

We surprised him with an electric guitar. A cool one with lightning bolts and a funny arrow shape. The kind we headbangers dreamed of owning in the 80ís on our way to becoming the next Angus or Eddie VanHalen. He saw it and shouted Holy crap! Yea, my kid. I almost cried at how happy he was. He thought he was getting a video game that hadnít arrived in the mail. I took a picture of him. Maybe Iíll get it on here later. I told him now you have to be a rock star. He promised he would. I also reminded him that the deal was, if he ever got famous he had to hook me and dad up with the house, plastic surgery and cash. He said we have a deal. His dad actually kept his promise to him and called to wish him a Happy Birthday. I know that meant alot to him. kelly was a little bummed since she got nothing on her day but that's another time and place. I made his fave dinner bbq ribs and burned the shit out of my hands. I made him a chocolate cake with gummy bears on top and it promptly cracked into thirds and looked like a big elephant turd. I'll leave the cake thing to my sis for I suck at it. But he had a good day and was very happy.

He is so close to 6 foot tall and so strong but heís still my little boy. His looks are morphing so much into a young Ashton Kutcher and unfortunately he has obtained the personality of Michael Kelso to go with it. Sometimes I call him Kelso as a nickname. (Ex. I went to cut his hair and he said ďmake me prettyĒ). He has really grown into his own since Iíve written ďOde to my sonĒ. He has self confidence, a great sense of humor and a big heart.

I actually did cry the other day when I came home from shopping to find him sitting on the floor next to Em with a bowl of popcorn between them, watching the SpongeBob movie. There was a picture on the table. It was a crayoned picture of Dylan and Emily holding hands. It had Him with black AC/DC shirt and her in a little pink dress. There was an arrow above each head that said Me and You. I was so moved by the sweetness and the obvious fact that he had taken care of his little sis instead of pestering or ignoring her. Itís moments like those when Iím assured that I have done something right as a parent.

I hug him and kiss him every day. I also tell him what a wonderful kid he is. Sometimes he acts annoyed and asks why Iím always doing that but I can see by the twinkle in his eye that he loves it. I am so proud of him even when he annoys the crap out of me (and he does like to make it a daily routine). He pokes me, throws pillows at me, sings songs in a Gawd-awful high pitch (on purpose) impersonates Cartman and Forrest Gump ( I heard ď I love you Jen-nay and I love you Mom-ay a hundred times this weekend) but he makes me laugh. I wouldnít trade that kid for nothing. And now heís a teenager. I try to hold on to these moments but damn itís hard.

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