ben wakeman : : Journal

Dylan Makes Five and Becomes a Knight

November 14, 2005

Our baby turned 5 yesterday. Dylan is now half a decade and it's so hard to let him grow up. I want him to always mix up his pronouns, believe in dragons and cuddle with me early in the morning, but I fear these days are numbered.

We put on a meticulously orchestrated Knight party yesterday afternoon in which I dressed up like a king/wizard/pilgrim/middle-aged man without a proper period costume, Catherine constructed a castle of cardboard boxes and all of the guests participated in various knight challenges. At the end of the party all of the little lads were knighted (after taking the oath of course) and given swords and helmets. Needless to say, by 5pm, Catherine and I were spent. My make-shift knickers were way too tight!

In the midst of all this cake, presents, plastic trinkets, goody bags, balloons and streamers, I was secretly depressed by the tremendous waste of it all. Not the celebrating of my precious boy's birthday, but all of the expected stuff that for the most part goes unappreciated and discarded within hours of being assembled. That coupled with the fact that I selfishly just wanted to have some one-on-one time with Dylan to truly celebrate his five years.

At the end of the party as we were cleaning up and throwing away all of the decorations, I decided I wanted to do one small thing with Dylan that would make a memory for both of us. I chose one of the red helium balloons, took his little hand in mine and led him out into the front yard. It was almost twilight and very still outside. There was promise of rain in the air as we stood in the driveway looking up at the sky. I told Dylan we were about to "record" a memory, that he should just let the balloon go if he wanted to and we would watch it disappear into the sky. Ian had followed us out and my suggestion for Dylan to release the balloon had created a distressed furrow in Ian's brow. "Don't do it Dylan, please."

Dylan's little fist slowly relaxed and the red streamer, as if alive, snaked up through his trembling fingers pulled skyward by the red balloon. We all watched in silence as the last inches of ribbon slipped away from him. The balloon was no longer tethered, but floating in a purposful spiral motion into the sky. All three of us felt a sharp sadness in watching it disappear --- something inexplicable given the fact that it was just a balloon. It's scary to be reminded of the vastness of the world around us and how insignificant we really are, but at the same time these moments are strangely nourishing to me. There is an important release in knowing that you are not in control, and that certain forces are older than time. The balloon was meant to go into the sky if left to it's own devices --- it is neither sad nor joyous, it simply is.

Later, when I was watching Dylan color spiderman at the dining room table I asked him if he enjoyed his party. He paused, looked at me and said..."All my friends were here, we played... and it was like a dream."