Ode to Eight

IMG_1110Alex,

As you are starting to realize, my dear, the things that go on in Mom’s classroom often spill out into our home life too.  Clouds.  Animal Reports.  Caldecotts.  Books.  Roots and Trees.  Well, today we were writing Odes like Mr. Pablo Neruda.  Odes are celebrations to something we love using our words, in poetry form.  I know you scold me for not forcing the students to make all their poems rhyme.  And these Odes?!  Well, they don’t rhyme.  They are little narrow columns of written goodness, showering love onto someone or something we hold near and dear.  And so yesterday?  I chose to write about YOU for my example poem.  The kids gave me the stamp of approval and promised you’d like it.  So without further ado, my Ode to Eight in Celebration of your 8th Birthday, Alex.

We Love You So Much!

Mom (and Daddy, Drew & Sally)

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Ode to Eight

Clicking, linking

LEGOS connecting

Building, creating

You

Never

Stop.

Ideas churning

burning

holes in your

mind.

Must write.

Must draw.

Must innovate.

Books pile up

by your bed,

tumbling

off like an

earthquake

as you devour

pages

and stories.

Shoes tossed

to the wall.

Toes rubbed

off—

evidence of

bike rides

and near

misses

as you

brake.

Light sabers

strewn

Minifigures

created and

re-created

Identities

tried on and

morphed.

Darth Vader

goes to the Bakery

Yoda frequents

the Zoo

and C3PO

crosses the

Golden Gate Bridge.

Adventures

conjured up

in your mind.

Journeys taken

LEGO by LEGO

Sometimes

the strains

of Taylor Swift

create a

movement

you can’t deny.

You move

to the beat,

serious

yet giggling

underneath

it all.

Humming

strains of

“Shake It Off”

and

“Welcome

to New York”

heard as you

crank out your

homework.

Baseball

bats,

a dirty mitt

and batting

gloves

have a

prominent place

on your shelf.

Dodgers gear

for your team

proudly worn,

but eclipsed

by the Giants

and A’s

whenever you

get to choose

the occasion.

Your grit

and determination

has amazed us.

Crack goes the bat

as you connect

with the pitch.

Run, run, run

to first base!

Glasses slide

down your nose…

you squint

over the top,

eating up stories,

reading recipes,

making lists.

You’ve got big plans.

Plans of fruit platters

Of baked goods

Of stories and

narratives to be.

Eight means

working out

math quandries,

problem solving

with smoke flying

off your pencil.

Eight is

independence

struggling to

be let loose.

Eight is

getting the

joke and

laughing

and your brother’s

silly connections.

Eight is

attacking life

like it’s a

big donut

with pink

frosting and sprinkles.

Eight is

wiggly teeth

and gaps

where teeth once were…

now off to the

Tooth Fairy!

Eight is

magic

and challenge

and tears

and joy

all wrapped up

in one

incredible,

surprising

and unpredictable

package.

Eight

is…

ALEX!

**************************************************

Past Birthday Posts

Seven

Six and a Half (some reflections on “the half years”)

Six

Five 

Four

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