Joy loves the ABC song. She sings it every morning.

This morning I started thinking about what Joy would include in a children’s book about the ABCs. I thought Joy might say: A is for ABBA / The rock and roll band / A is for Apple / A fruit I can’t stand.

But “ABBA good, Apple bad” is not the right message. So I have taken a different approach. Let me know what you think. What are some other words that are important to Joy and others like her?

Joy’s Book of ABCs

A is for Able,

I can do that.

I can spell words

Like ME and CAT.

B is for Birthday

A day of cake and ice cream

A day of fun and family

And hugs and nice dreams.

C is for Chromosome

I have an extra one of those.

But I still have ten fingers

And ten beautiful toes.

D is for Down.

Which is often a negative word.

But when you add Syndrome,

It means Best in the World.

Or

D is for Different

I’m just different from you

Because I’m unique

And you’re unique too.

E is for Equal and Everyone,

Which means for everybody

Like having a home and a school

And a place to go potty.

Tune in tomorrow for F, G, and H.

Joy got a taste of kindergarten last week. The Summer Success program gives kindergartners a chance to check out the grade school, become familiar with riding the bus, learn the location and layout of their classroom, follow school rules and itinerary, etc. It gives the teachers an opportunity to meet the new students.

We think Joy enjoyed it. She did not get off the bus crying. She seemed okay. Maybe a little tired.

On Thursday, the last day of Summer Success, an orientation session was held in the gym for the parents. The principal and both assistant principals were there to do a slide presentation and answer questions. The first PowerPoint slide read: WELCOME CLASS OF 2037.

What!? 2037? Holy crap. I assume that for Joy’s graduation ceremony, someone will send a driverless electric van to pick me up from the assisted living facility. Unless graduations are virtual in 2037.

The orientation was similar to those I attended in the 1990s. However, this time there was more discussion of online forms, Google forms, QR codes, apps, parent portals, Infinite Campus, iPads, et cetera.

And of course, there was a police officer in flak jacket patrolling the gym.

Joy was excited every day last week. She stood at the front door each morning, hopping and clapping and eagerly waiting for the monstrously huge yellow school bus to arrive. Her backpack looked so big on her. But I know she will grow into it so fast. And she will grow into her identity as a student, a classmate, a girl, a friend, a sister. Maybe someday she will be an athlete, an artist, an employee, a wife. All I know is that since December 10, 2018, she has been the most loved baby girl in the world.

Deb and I are also excited. And we are also nervous, hopeful, worried, scared, and emotional. And even though I’m not quite ready for Joy to take this step into the world, I know that she is ready. And that’s what really matters.

On Monday, I walked out of the Middendorf-Kredell Library at 1:45 pm, leaving my laptop on a desk in the quiet room. The sky was clear, gorgeous. The sun was starting to dim, however. I’d spent two hours that morning trying to find a pair of eclipse glasses. It was futile. Apparently they had been sold out for days.

We wouldn’t have “totality” here in St. Charles County, but 99% of totality is not bad, I thought, and that would occur at 1:59. I thought I might be able to gaze up then. However, when a librarian noticed that I did not have eclipse glasses, she said, “You don’t have glasses! Wait here. We have a few pairs set aside at the information desk.”

She returned in thirty seconds and handed me the cardboard eyewear that would keep me from going blind. Now I was ready. In just a few minutes, the moon would cross the face of the sun, a rare phenomenon that has amazed humans since ancient times: a total solar eclipse. Over the course of several hours, tens of millions of people would fall beneath the moon’s shadow as it swept across the American continent at almost 1,500 miles per hour.

At 1:55 pm, I noticed that traffic on Highway K had diminished significantly. Highway K carries almost 40,000 cars a day. At 2 pm, cars and trucks should have been passing the library at one or two per second. There was nothing. It was quiet. Clearly, people were stopping what they were doing and looking up at the sky.

Meanwhile, at Joy’s school, teachers were showing a live broadcast of the event in all classrooms. School officials had no plans to let four- and five-year-olds go outside and look up at the actual sun (with or without proper eyewear). I was certain that Joy was bored out of her mind.

At 2 pm, two dozen librarians and library patrons stood on the sidewalk and gazed up at the sun. Next door, at Imo’s, employees were standing in the parking lot doing the same thing.

It’s difficult to describe what it’s like to watch the moon block the sun. As I looked up, a model of the sun, earth, and moon played in my imagination. And I felt something like wonder.

Later, I thought about how rarely I look up at the moon and the stars. Living in an urban area, it is certainly difficult to see stars at night. But the moon is visible almost every day. It really is an amazing planet we live on.

Have you ever seen the DreamWorks animation that plays before animated Universal movies? The version I’m thinking about shows the figure of a boy lazily fishing while sitting on the edge of a crescent moon. It reminds me that it’s easy for children to believe in magical things, such as that the white, glowing crescent in the sky is a great place to sit and fish. Only later do we understand: “Hey, the rest of the moon is still there. And it’s massive. The black part is just shadow.” In school we learn much about the moon. How far away it is. Its history. How difficult it is to get there and get back. And although we never fully grasp the scale of the solar system and the universe, we know that the universe is wondrous, mysterious, and amazing, and more so the more we learn about it.

Joy is our sunshine. She is the sun in our family solar system. And if I’m the moon, then I guess I orbit the thing that orbits Joy. Yes, my presence waxes and wanes. I’m at home, then I’m away. I’m in my office working, then in the yard running after Joy. I give Joy a bath in the morning, then head to the store and the library. I tuck her into bed, watch her fall asleep, then get up and get back to work. She may see just a sliver of me today. But I’m still all here, just in shadow. In the evening, Joy, if you look up, you will see me. My love never wanes.

And once in a while the orbiting bodies in our system perfectly align, and for a moment a shadow is cast, and people look up and are amazed at the perfect shape of our world.

I’m a good example of the Clark Kent effect. Wearing glasses makes me look meeker, nerdier, smarter, and more mild-mannered than I really am. In fact, I wear glasses because it’s just easier than popping in contact lenses. I cannot do contact lenses. I have some kind of cognitive deficit in which my brain says, Hey, get your finger out of my eye.

Joy was fitted for glasses a month ago. And they just arrived. I think Joy is about the cutest girl on planet Earth. But I think glasses make her look even cuter.

She refuses to wear them for more than two or three minutes. But we are working on it.

“Ice cream,” Joy often says after dinner.

“I’ll get you some if you put on your glasses….”

Many parents I know discourage scribbling on walls with permanent Sharpie, but it’s actually a very important step in a child’s development. Just as early babbling leads to the development of language, scribbling on kitchen walls leads to the development of letter-like shapes, symbols, and artistic expression. Scribbling is deeply satisfying and beneficial for kids, engaging them emotionally, physically, and cognitively. Children like Joy can be quite intent about their scribbling, concentrating for twenty minutes or longer, especially if they are encouraged by parents or perhaps Dad is asleep and Mom is in Chesterfield. Developing the ability to sustain concentration is a great tool for life.

“Look,” Joy apparently said to herself last Tuesday, “Mom left the bag of pens on the kitchen island. That black Sharpie is just the tool I need to make my art.”

As soon as children can pick up and hold a marker of some sort—crayon, pen, pencil, or permanent SHARPIE—they take pleasure in making marks. At first, their scribbling is random and disordered. But as children practice, the marks become a bit more intentional. In fact, I have noticed that Joy’s art is reminiscent of the work of artist Melanie Matranga. Joy’s technique is to stand on tiptoes and reach as high as she can on the wall, making broad, bold strokes that manage to evoke a sense of confidence and strength—saying: THIS IS WHO I AM.

Adults can reinforce this process by showing delight in their child’s scribbles. “What a good wiggly line you made, sweetheart!” is something a thoughtful parent might say. What I said when I woke up from my nap is, “Holy f&@k! Really, Joy!? Really?”

I got out the 100-count box of magic erasers and quickly discovered that there is not enough magic in these erasers to get Sharpie off “Toasted Yellow” Behr Premium Plus interior paint. Like, the erasers did nothing at all. So for a week we had an art exhibition in the kitchen, dining room, and living room.

The paint department person at Home Depot told me that they cannot reproduce the “Toasted Yellow” and “Greywood” colors that we had mixed at Home Depot 18 months ago, but Menards was able to do it in three minutes.

If you are looking for a marker that is absolutely permanent and makes drawings that will not smudge, erase, or fade, Sharpie is the best!

If you are looking for an ultra-contemporary artist whose work includes four-feet-tall abstract murals done in black Sharpie, Joy is available.

Four Weddings and a Funeral is a 1994 rom-com with Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell. I’m going to say that I never saw the movie, but it’s possible I did and it was simply unremarkable. Or it’s possible that I don’t remember seeing it because it was thirty years ago. In any case, last week I saw the movie mentioned in something I read. I don’t remember where.

(As I’m writing this, the clock at the library is speeding up. Literally. The second hand seems to be moving at the correct speed, but the minute hand and hour hand are accelerating. It was 4:10 p.m. a few minutes ago. Now it’s 2:00 a.m. tomorrow, according to the clock. It’s weirdly emblematic of how my week is going.)

So, you might ask, why are you discussing a film that you never saw or that you saw but don’t remember? Well, first, I think the title tells me all I need to know. The assuredly predictable plot involves four hilarious weddings and a not-so-hilarious funeral. Hugh Grant’s character perhaps meets someone at wedding number one. Then, somehow, they both attend a subsequent wedding. There is drama and jealousy and lighthearted scenes, and at some point there is a “speak now or forever hold your peace” moment. And in the end, Hugh gets the girl. Or something like that. Weddings are known for being places where a new romance can blossom. Everyone is in a good mood. Everyone is dressed up. Everyone is drinking and dancing. The weather is often sunny with a chance of hookup. There is also someone attending the wedding who watches the love of their life marry someone else.

I remember going to weddings when I was in my twenties and thirties. It was fun.

Nowadays, though, I’m more likely to attend four funerals and a wedding.

In fact, over the past few months I have seen four death notices posted on Facebook—all of them for grade school and high school classmates of mine.

I attended a funeral for a grade school classmate two months ago. He was a grade or two behind me, so I didn’t know him well, but I knew his older sisters and brothers and their mom and dad. I cared deeply for this family when I was a kid. And for that reason, I attended the visitation and service.

Many classmates attended. There were men and women in attendance whom I had not seen since 1976. Think about that. I was mingling with and chatting with sixty-one-year-olds whom I had not seen since we were fourteen. It was surreal.

Every time I see my doctor, he says, “Have you completed a living will?” And I say, “No. I feel fine. And I’m kinda busy.” I suppose I really don’t want to think about it. But I need to think about it. There are issues that I need to address so that my family doesn’t have to.

Today I was distracted, thinking about deadlines, money, and grievances. Joy approached me, looked up, and said, “I love you.” I didn’t even hear her. Deb said, “Mike, did you not hear her? She said ‘I love you.’”

I said, “Oh no. I’m sorry, baby.” I picked her up and held her, and she gave me great big hugs and kisses. I needed to be present in the moment, and I failed. I’m often worrying about something or thinking about something that happened hours ago. But when I hold Joy, those thoughts disappear. Clearly, I need to hold Joy all day long.

The Stoics say, “Live each day as if it were your last.” I think it’s wise advice, even if I live many more years. Pretending I will die today will make me a better person.

I have five daughters, all of whom are unmarried. So I am hopeful I will attend at least four weddings. And I hope not to attend so many funerals next year (or be the guest of honor at one).

The little boy who visits next door (who is maybe seven) has a scooter. Joy loves her scooter, and she recently saw the boy next door doing some pretty fancy riding on his. His scooter is aluminum with a rear fender brake and has just two rubber wheels, and those wheels can go. He does two forceful pushes from the top of the driveway, and he is suddenly zooming down the street at fifteen or twenty miles an hour.

Joy has a scooter that is mostly plastic. Her scooter has three wheels and is really just a training toy for toddlers. It can pick up speed on a downhill slope, but we have been keeping Joy on level areas of the sidewalk. For safety.

But apparently Joy has been watching the boy wonder next door. A few days ago, she did two strong pushes with her right leg, and then stood on the deck with both feet. Almost immediately she was standing still because she is on level ground. She tried again. She went about four inches and then stopped.

I encouraged Joy to keep pushing. “Come on, Joy! Push-push-push!”

And so she pushed. She scootered a block east and then came back home as I walked beside her.

I mentioned it to Deb. She said, “Maybe we should get her a faster scooter.”

I said, “I really don’t want her going fifteen miles an hour. She doesn’t have the skills to handle a scooter going that fast.” Plus, Joy doesn’t like wearing a helmet or knee pads.

And I started thinking. Eventually, Joy will understand that she does not have the same abilities as other kids her age.

And I’m not looking forward to that day. I don’t want to see the disappointment on her face when she realizes that she is different.

But we’re all different, aren’t we? And I love Joy’s differences. I love her uniqueness.

And if Joy had the words to ask me why she can’t ride a scooter at fifteen miles per hour, I might say, “Joy, you are on your own journey, at your own pace. I love that you scooter along at a pace so that I can walk with you. I get to talk to you and watch out for cars. When you get tired, I can pick you up with one arm and carry the scooter with the other. If you want to go fast, we can get on the bike together and zip around the block at twenty-five miles per hour. And I can listen to you laugh and giggle as you bounce around in the trailer. Joy, you are exactly where you need to be. And I know for certain that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, because I’m right next to you.”