Writing A Senior Yearbook Dedication Is Unfair Punishment After 18 Years Of Child Rearing

I have known for a couple months now that the due date for the senior dedication page in my son’s high school yearbook was November 19th, but I guess I wasn’t ready to write it yet. I mean, how can this kid be 18, nearing the halfway point of his senior year, and awaiting college acceptance notices? I swear just yesterday it was his second birthday and, rather than blowing out his birthday candle, the wise child chose instead to put his mouth on the cake and take a bite before anyone else could get to it. He’s always been a forward thinker, a planner, and a negotiator. Soon, he will be putting those skills to good use in navigating his own life without the parental training wheels. I’ve known it was coming. I was just busy swimming up a river in Egypt.

I asked Luke for his advice as to how I should approach this task, and his advice was to be lighthearted and funny. So here, then, are some lighthearted and funny things I could address in his yearbook:

Luke has always been a climber. He climbed out of his crib, he climbed onto counters to get cupcakes, he climbed onto the kitchen table so he could sit there for a better view of the television while he ate.

Luke has always liked to run the show. When other kids were racing their bicycles, Luke decided that rather than race too he would be the judge at the finish line.

Luke has always been an unapologetic fashion maverick. I once found him wearing the neighbor’s turkey decoy as a hat.

Luke has always been fiscally aware. When asked who his favorite Star Wars character is, he answered, “Han Solo because he’s just in it for the money.”

Luke has always had epic confidence. He once asked me, “Am I really good at art or am I awesome at it?”

Luke has always been on the right side of things. I once saw him with a toy bat and a blindfold and heard him say to his brother, “Hold still, Joe. You’re a pinata.”

Luke has always been mature for his age. When he was 7, he told me, “I’m ready to grow up. I want to get a wife, have some kids, just get on with my life.”

Luke has always understood women. He once told his brother, “That’s how you get the girl, Joe. You do what she wants.”

Luke has always set lofty goals. “I think I’ll learn the Australian accent.”

Luke has always been protective of his older brother. Once when Joe was showering in our bathroom before school, a two year old Luke ran in and started hitting me and said, “He’s my favorite brother. Get him OUT!”

Luke has always sought creative solutions. He once took his brother’s stuffed mouse, tied it to a stick, stuck the stick in upright clothespins, and then drew a fire pit and placed it beneath the mouse, and “roasted” the mouse on a spit.

Luke has always been a negotiator. I once offered him a dollar to try a new food. He countered with six dollars. I told him a dollar was my offer. His response was, “Okay. Okay. One dollar, plus five.”

Luke has always had a prodigious vocabulary. Once in the car when he was 11, he called me out for changing subjects telling me that was a “total non sequitur.”

Luke has always been great help around the house. He started changing toilet paper rolls at age 7.

Okay. Okay. I’ll get out of DeNile now, dry off, and write the damn yearbook dedication.

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