“I’m eighteen and I don’t know what I want…”

 Not quite. I think Oliver clearly knows what he wants.  I haven't posted anything on him since he turned 14.  I figured that he'd got to the point where he is able to remember what happened to him during the preceding year.  However he requested this post so I will write it.

This is the speech I was going to deliver at his 18th birthday party.  He's seen the light and has requested that speeches shouldn't be made at all.  My brief was to be ....... brief and use humour.  This was to contrast his mother's speech which would have brought on tears.

And so I begin

About 15 kilograms ago my life as I knew it disappeared.  At approximately 6PM on the 29th of October 2007 Oliver arrived on this planet.  So happy was he to be here that he celebrated by pissing onto his mother.  And so it came to pass that Peter Green was no longer my favourite person born on the 29th of October.  I made one last attempt at bolstering Green's status by replying to his mother when she asked who he looked like,  "Peter Green of course."

It was a surprise to meet this young man. He came out with dark hair.  I thought he'd be blonde because I was born blonde and his mother is blonde.   Made me question his maternity, it did.

His childhood is probably best separated into two phases.  The foundation phase that was merely foundational (all of which has been written about on this blog) and then Redhill.  Redhill is the perfect fit for Oliver.  He came into Redhill during the latter part of the lockdown and had online classes for the first month.  He then entered the school and embarked on his uber woke phase.  I thought this was somewhat latent until upon hearing a parent scolding his younger brother and telling him to "take his punishment like a man," Oliver interjected with "stop this toxic masculinity!"  No irony intended I tell you.

There's a joke I wanted to tell him about a Red Indian, I didn't get beyond the first sentence before he started lecturing me on the correct term for Red Indian.  "You can't call them that, it's Native American."  I protested that the joke won't work if I change the name.  And so we argued, and the joke has hung in the ether since then.

Redhill has given Oliver the confidence to be the person he is.  He is surrounded by a small group of  like-minded people who base their relationship on humour and intellect.  It's a special group of people and Oliver has found his core.  He's been allowed to be who he actually is.  And who he actually is is a pleasure for a father.   

He eclipses me intellectually.  Admittedly he chooses topics that I don't stand a chance of understanding.  He is able to come to my level and talk about things that open my mind completely.  I love those moments where we get to talk about everything.  I love his commitment to his academics, I love his commitment to his family.  I love what he's become.  

Here he is at 18, one more year of school ahead of him and mountains of work, which he has subscribed for.

This post has gone off topic.  I couldn't have delivered this to his friends.  What could I say about my older son that his friends don't know?

I suppose I could say that I love him dearly, I love how he hugs me and tells me he loves me when he gets out my car.  I love that confident presence that he exudes.  I love bumping into him at the gym.  I love the way he stands his ground.  I love how he has figured to get around unnecessary confrontation.  I love the fact that the cheeky bastard is taller than me.  I love that his teachers love him.  I love that he values his friends and invests in those relationships.  I love how much my friends love and respect him.  I love how independent and self contained he is.  I love his musical tastes that I seem to gravitate towards. I love how he will watch a rugby game with me because I want him there.  I love how the mommies look at him when the two of us are walking in a mall.  I love the distinct sense of dress that he has adopted.  I love his quiet presence that draws people towards him.  I love everything about him.  

Happy birthday SuperBun, not that I've called you that for many years.   You are going to go out into the world soon and I think you've got the tools to make the most of it.  

I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH, TO THE MOON AND NOT BACK (that was what he used to say when he went to bed when he was a small boy). 

Perhaps one day we could finish the Native American joke..............