Someone Get Me A Time Machine

Today is my daughter's birthday. It is my oldest's birthday. (I have to be specific due to all the kids around here.) Not only is it the anniversary of her coming into this world, it is the anniversary of me becoming a dad. A Father. A caregiver. A grownup. (Let us not put too much emphasis on that last one. I will never grow up. What's the use? Staying young is way more fun.)

I was thinking back to when I was eight and trying to remember the things I was doing. My family just moved to a new house. I rode my bike. Played Legos. Played MASK (For those of you who are not familiar with this, it was a television show and subsequently a line of toys that were cars and such and did other things. I kinda can't recall what exactly they did, but I did enjoy it.)  I'm sure I did other, more exciting things, yet I cannot recall much; I'm an old man now (For Pete's sake, I have three girls and the oldest is eight years old! My memory is pretty shot.)

Anyhoo, as I was reminiscing of my glory days, I began to compare my past with my child's present. She draws. She is a good reader. She is a part-time vegetarian. (Read sausage and bacon - good; chicken breast - bad) And she is a phenomenal dancer. She is on a team with other, like-minded dancers who, as a group, are awesome. And she has performed a solo. Four times. She got on stage, in front of a lot of people and danced. All by herself. Four times. And did very well, impressing judges, teachers, teammates and strangers without batting an eyelash. And now she is learning another solo to do the same this year. I don't think I got on stage to perform until I was double her age. She must take after her mother. 

Looking back at all that she has accomplished in her short time, it fills my heart with joy and pride. All that done in just eight short years. I can't imagine what the rest will bring. Someone get me a time machine. Lets go see what she does. Better yet, lets go back and watch it all again.