James is 13 today, and he is just about the greatest kid. I don’t know of any older brother who punched his little brothers less, even when they definitely deserved it. He is gentle, considerate, and sincere. Your heart hurts for him when you think about him entering the outside world.
His heart hearts for itself too. He likes having a birthday, but he doesn’t like being reminded of how old he is turning or hearing that he is getting taller or being called “grown up.” I think he just wants to stay a child.
And he can’t. Just as our 40th birthdays are starting to loom forward, so our oldest son is confronting his own coming-of-age. The thing about James is that however his Bildungsroman takes shape, he will be a great hero. He is already that mix of formed and unformed parts out of which an interesting, likable, and noble grown-up can be formed.
He has been a great kid, and as it gets less and less accurate to call him a kid I have every confidence that he will continue to be a great James.
As he learned this week, “he himself is subject to his birth” uses an intensive, and not a reflexive pronoun. We had fun (grammar is EVER so much fun) diagramming sample sentences, including the (incorrect) reflexive sentence, “Why does that Poky Little Puppy feel sorry for hisself? He should just get some strawberry shortcake at Memwins.”
Of all the grammar controversies, however, the biggest dust-up was Owen’s objection to the truth of the statement “Mom herself is the most beautiful woman in the world.”
He is apparently campaigning to receive (for himself) the smallest slice of birthday cake.
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