“The
Fine Print”, by M.H. Schrader
Just Another Birthday?
April is a special month in the Schrader
household. You see, it’s a two birthday
month: mine and daughter
Elizabeth’s. It’s interesting how our
view of our birthday changes as we progress (if you can call it that) from
childhood to adulthood.
In just a few days, daughter Elizabeth
will turn four. A birthday to a four
year old is a really important thing.
Perhaps it’s because she hasn’t had very many, so each one seems
special. Perhaps it’s because she knows
she will get lots of presents and cake and cookies. I don’t know why, but I do know that to a kid a birthday is
really cool and special day.
Looking back on my own birthdays
throughout the years, I used to think my birthday was a pretty cool day,
too. When I was in grade school, each
birthday meant that I was one step closer to being a big kid. Like most kids, I couldn’t wait to grow up. If only I had known then what I know now, I
wouldn’t have frittered my youth wanting to be a grown-up; being a grown-up
isn’t all that it is cracked up to be.
(Mama never told me about mortgages, utility bills, car payments,
grocery expenses, and the list goes on and on.)
I guess the really first important
birthday is your fifth. For when you
turn five, you get to go to kindergarten, which means that you get to go to
school with the big kids.
Daughter Jacqueline turned five last
year. The transformation was
phenomenal. Suddenly, she became an
authority. After all, she’s a big kid
now. Both my wife and I get a chuckle
when she starts remembering. “When I
was a little kid...” We just don’t have
the heart to tell her that, well, she still is a little kid, even though she
may not want to believe it. She can’t
be a little kid; she’s in kindergarten!
Turning four really did not have much
significance when I was a kid. But, it
does for Elizabeth. Now that’s she’s
four, she’ll be able to do the things that her big sister does. She’ll go to the same school, for
instance. No more going to daycare with
her baby sister. Now she’ll be in the
pre-K program in her big sister’s school.
Sort of a rite of passage from babyhood to kidhood.
She will also be able to play T-ball and
soccer now. (Four is the minimum
age.) And believe you me, she will not
let us forget it, either. Now whether I
will have any sanity left remains to be seen.
It’s one thing to coach one team; it’s quite another to coach two. And I have to, you know. The precedent has been set. Since I’ve already coached Jacqueline’s
teams, I have to coach Elizabeth’s; it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t. And I don’t think Jacqueline will let me
stop coaching her team so that I can concentrate on coaching Elizabeth’s; “it’s
not fair!”
For me, at least, the next big birthday
was my sixth. Being six meant that I
was in the first grade, when meant that I was a true big kid. You see, in the state of Missouri when I was
growing up (and it’s still true today), kindergartners only go to school for
half a day. So while you are in school,
you really aren’t a full-fledged member of the “big kid gang”. It isn’t until the first grade that you go
to school full time and lose the “associate big kid” status.
Thirteen was the next milestone. At thirteen, I made the next quantum
leap: from child to teen-ager. I don’t know about anyone else, but when I
became a teenager, I honestly believed that I knew everything there was to know
about life. And I also knew that my
parents knew absolutely nothing about life.
So, it was my duty, my moral responsibility, to set them straight. But, you know, it’s a funny thing about
parents--they just don’t listen. They
just like to cling to those “old fashioned” ways.
Eight years after turning thirteen, our
transformation from child to adult is complete. Within those eight years are four more gateways from one stage to
another. The next comes at
fourteen. What’s so big about
fourteen? Well, at fourteen, you enter
high school. And, high school is
nothing at all like grade school. The
coddling ends when you pass from eighth to ninth grade. Reality starts to hit. Homework, and lots of it. Worst of all, the teachers actually make you
take responsibility for your own actions.
The gall!
Of course, once you enter high school,
the next two years are wasted in the sheer anticipation of birthday number
sixteen, which is the birthday that all teenagers look forward to and all
adults dread. For it is at sixteen that
one can get an official driver’s license.
(I don’t know about you, but after getting my insurance premium notice,
I really think that they ought to raise that to eighteen.) And, a car means freedom. No more embarrassment being chaperoned on a
date by Mom or Dad!
If the last election is any indication,
eighteen doesn’t quite have the importance that it used to have. The first thing I did when I turned eighteen
was fill out my Selective Service registration; the second thing I did was
register to vote. (If I didn’t need the
first for the second, I would have just gone to “Go” and collected the
$200!) To me, voting is the greatest
responsibility a person has, as voting means that a person is an active
participant in deciding the future of this great country that we call home,
which is really what being an adult is all about--making decisions and
contributing to society.
It’s been more than a decade now since
that final landmark--twenty-one. (And
you know, I drank more alcohol before I turned 21 than I ever have since. It’s an adult thing called personal
responsibility.) I guess there are no
more watershed birthdays to look forward to.
Oh, yeah, I forgot--I’m
thirty-something. The countdown to 40
has already begun.