The Chipmunks

The boys and I went to see Alvin and the Chipmunks just before Christmas. What really stuck out to me in this movie was Alvin. I think every family has an Alvin. You know, the kid that does his own thing, marches to his own beat, and makes you just squint and shake your head.

Jack Huston Price.

This is the kid that sang TNT at Gratisfest in 2006 when he was just four years old. The boy who stood ON TOP of a playground set and said to Jon, "Look Dad. I can jump from here and not die", then proceeded to jump (he was four then too). That would be the growth-plate-hurrah. This child is the one who did the Broncos touchdown dance, fell off the couch into the coffee table, and split his head open clear down to his skull. The skull...

Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, Jack is heading the other way doing exactly what will make him the dirtiest and whatever dangerous thing will put my stomach in a knot. Just this morning, Gable and I were outside in the van, engine on. We were heading to church. We're waiting and waiting. Gable is getting panicked and saying that this is the worst day in the history of the world (he hates, more than anything, to be late. Even on time is late). Finally I head back up to the front door to get Jack. When I last saw him, he was fully dressed with teeth brushed, food in his belly, hoodie on, and just needed his shoes. Mind, I had set the shoes out by the door and given him clear instructions: get your shoes on and meet us in the van. Anyway, I got to the front door and it is locked from the inside. hmmm. I knocked. No answer. I knocked louder. I started to call for Jack and then I began to do the mom-freakout thing and started yelling for Jack. Banging on MY door and yelling for my son, thinking that somehow, someway, someone got in my home and was now holding my baby hostage. (Did I mention I couldn't find my keys to the house and was already using the emergency key to the van, so I really had no way in) Forcing a calming dose of reality into my brain, I took a breath and heard...a guitar and a little boy singing/screeching 'Love Addict'. The child cannot even hear me banging on the door and yelling my loudest. He's into this little rock world with his guitar. I can now see him through the side window rocking his heart out and screaming the words. Anyway, I finally got in, focused him on 'shoes, Jack, shoes', guided him to the door while using my hands as blinders to all things shiny trying to catch his eye.

This is my little Jacker-the-Head-Cracker, born at 5 pounds, 8 ounces, but never once has his presence been insignificant. He learned to skate at two. He told me he just doesn't get into sweet little kid music because he's 'mostly just into rock and roll.' He wakes me up in the morning telling me that he wants to build a 1) skateshop today 2) restaurant today 3) new house today. He truly is the coolest little kid around. And he still comes up to our bed on cold nights and wraps his little arms (tightly) around my neck and asks if I want to 'snuggle buggle boo'.

I am so blessed.