What a magnificent spring evening to go to the park!  I'm still missing my nice camera (the lens is still in the shop), but with a pristine blue sky like that and the golden light of a setting sun -- just about any camera takes beautiful pictures.  Especially with such beautiful subject material to shoot!

Can you guess who just got a new pretend sword?  Elliot invested €3.50 of his allowance money, and I'd say he's already gotten a good return on his investment, for all the fun he's had pretending to be Peter, High King of Narnia (we just recently loaned the film from a friend, so he's even singing the movie's theme music as he acts out his glorious battle charges and coronation scenes).

We got a new-old CD in the mail this weekend: Ken Medema: "Just Us Kids." It was a gift from my sister for my and Elliot's birthdays -- and man, has it been a good one!

When I was growing up, our family had the album on vinyl (yes, boys and girls -- I am old enough to personally remember records, eight-tracks, cassette-tapes, CDs, and MP3s as the dominant listening formats!). And listening to the songs and stories of Ken Medema (now digitally remastered) again this weekend was returning to a very happy place in my life: remembering our family's plaid couch, the orange-velvety upholstered chair, our dog Muffy, my blue Darth Vader T-shirt... Ah those were the days...

And although the nostalgic effect of the Ken Medema album was immensely enjoyable, in and of itself, I have to say that even if I hadn't grown up listening to that record, it's just a great album! You couldn't exactly say that it's timeless (the mid-70s brass section coming in at parts, like Chicago's "Saturday in the Park," definitely anchors it in a certain era) -- but it's absolutely classic. The music is really cool -- not just some crap for the kids (a presumably undiscerning audience). It's kind of Billy Joel meets Chicago -- but not merely pop-rock; kind of jazzy and bluesy, too. And then beyond the music, Ken Medema's storytelling is absolutely brilliant. He uses the piano as a beautiful complement to the stories (kind of background music, kind of sound effects), and the stories themselves are both entertaining and insightful. I'm not a professional album critic, so I find my descriptions here falling
miserably short -- but all I know is that it's very enjoyable
listening.

My kids, too, have really enjoyed listening to the new album. Already, after just a few listenings, Elliot and Olivia are singing along with the music and listening in gape-mouthed silence to the stories. I love it.

Thanks, Anna for a great birthday present!

Dear Elliot,

Happy Birthday! Six years old, huh? That's pretty incredible. You know, I don't think I can refer to you as a "little boy" anymore. Somewhere, somehow, sometime within the last year or so, you crossed a threshhold -- albeit vague and ambiguous, as it often is with the vast majority of life's various threshholds -- and you ceased to be a "little boy." You became a regular, full-fledged, out-right boy. A big boy, even... Of course, all of these terminologies are relative and basically irrelevant in the grander scheme of things. People will always call you what they want to call you -- based on their preconceived notions, their personal perceptions, their prejudices -- but for whatever it's worth, Elliot, I think you ought to be called a big boy now. A gen-u-ine, bonafide, certifiable six-year-old boy. And not just any boy: my boy.

I sure do love you, Elliot. I'm so proud of the boy that you've become (and are becoming). You're tall, lean, fast, tough, intelligent, spirited, and fun. I cannot help but marvel at your intelligence and maturity. You're a good, responsible kid who just seems to "get it," understanding the complexities of life -- on two continents, in two cultures, no less -- in ways that even I cannot fully comprehend. Truly, your innate sense of understanding is a wonder to behold. I hope and trust that this will be a blessing from God that will serve you (and others) well throughout your life. At the same time, though, it's unfortunate to note that your giftedness can seem to work against you at times. You notice hurtful comments and actions that others might not notice. You feel the weight of emotional events on a level that many of the other kids your age do not, or cannot. You can become so frustrated at your own personal imperfections -- simply because you're self-aware!

I'm glad that God made you this way. I really admire these traits about you. However, please be careful not to let your quest for complete comprehension block your view of the great beauties of life (even the painful parts of life) and the incredible strides that you've made along the way. I hope you can grow to realize (in all these things) that you are a highly capable, very special boy, who is still very much at the beginning of a lifetime of learning -- whether it's building the ultimate Lego mansion, or sketching the most intricate Superman portrait, or racing your bike around the Bikoplein, or tying your shoelaces, or practicing fast-listening to me and Mommy. You're doing a great job, Elliot. Go ahead and keep asking questions if you don't understand something (I know you will anyway!). Go ahead and keep practicing, getting better, improving your techniques in all these (and other) various disciplines. But give yourself some grace, too, OK? Imperfection and pain is a part of life. Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody hurts sometimes. Just don't forget: I'm proud of you, and I love you just the way you are. And even more signficantly, God is proud of you, and He loves you just the way you are.

I know that all of this is easier advised than applied. Easier said than done. I know from personal experience. But maybe we can work on it together. And as we can learn to accept our imperfections and accept God's grace (like it says in Ephesians 2:8-9), we'll be able to walk comfortably and confidently in the good works which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Ah Elliot... my boy... you simply cannot comprehend the affection in my heart, the smile on my face, the warm thoughts in my mind -- when I think about you, as I'm sitting here, writing this letter. You simply cannot comprehend it -- not because of your inability to accept it, but because of my inability to fully articulate it! How can I verbally summarize your frownish/smilish "game face," which signals you're about to tackle me, or show me a new trick on your bike, or bust into rhyme about Ned, who's dressed in Red, and lives in Bled?!? How can I speak of the scintillating softness of your heart, when you sob uncontrollably upon the realization of the way you've wronged your mother, or when you respond (unprompted) to the spilling of your sister's appel-vier-bessensap with a slosh of your own precious portion, or when you meticulously manufacture incredibly thoughtful gifts for your friends and family members?!? How can I explain the depth of respect and admiration for a boy who is 25 years my junior?!?

You've truly become a beautiful boy, Elliot. I can't take much credit for it, though. Your people skills and linguistic abilities already show signs of being far beyond my own. Your dashingly smooth good looks, clearly, are thanks to your mother. And above and beyond all of this, as the first-born in our family, you're working against the dubious distinction of being our family's proefkonijn. You know, there's a pretty steep learning curve for parents -- and I've only recently been realizing how much it's had to come at your expense. We were, I'm afraid, far too rigid, too regimented, too principled in the beginning, with you. We've never been -- and (I hate to break it to you) never will be perfect parents. And yet, I have no doubt that you're turning out to be a terrific kid in spite of it all. I guess it's just one more reminder of God's grace in the face of our imperfections. Apparently, God even gives grace for children (such as you) to deal with our parental (and personal) shortcomings. Wow. Hallelujah for that...

I sure do love you, Elliot. My boy. My big boy. Six-year-olds sure can do a lot of cool stuff -- and what's coolest is that you've still got gobs of potential for the years to come -- but remember that none of us can do it all. That's why we've got each other. That's why we've got Jesus.

God bless you, my boy. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Dad

Elliot celebrated his sixth birthday today (even though his official birthday is not until Saturday). We organized a "Cars"-themed party, which turned out to be a big hit.

Believe it or not, after celebrating five other birthdays here in the Netherlands, this year was Elliot's first real Dutch party -- which is to say: a majority of the guests were Dutch (or at least non-American) and the primary language spoken during the party was Dutch. Somehow, this threshhold seems significant.

One of the main reasons that we organized the party for today instead of for Saturday (his actual birthday) was that we wanted to create some separation between Elliot's birthday (a fun occasion) and his best friend Tobias' departure (a sad occasion). This Saturday will be the last big hurrah for the Dubois family -- with a farewell party at the H88 -- and Elliot has been dreading the arrival of his birthday, because it means that he'll have to say his last good-byes to Tobias. When we dropped Tobias off, back at his house, and Elliot saw all the moving boxes piled up -- it seemed that the reality of the Dubois family's imminent departure started to set in more fully. I feel bad for my boy. I know that it's going to be hard for him.

Still, today was a day for smiling. A day for celebration. Saturday will be that in a way, too, but in a hard kind of way.  Today was just a good time for eating cake, playing games, and being silly with friends.

Like many other Americans at this time of the year, I enjoy the delicate balance of science and intuition that goes into guessing the winners of the annual basketball tournament of the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA).  There's a certain excitement about the whole process -- especially in the days leading up to and including the first couple of rounds of the tournament (when there are several games simultaneously being played in varoius parts of the country).  I have warm memories of filling out the tournament brackets in high school (and even stealing glimpses of the games, together with the teacher, on the classroom television set in our cheminstry laboratory)... I remember debating the prospects of various games together with the other guys in my dormitory at Bowling Green State University... And even since moving to Europe, I've kept up with the annual observance of "March Madness."  It's a lot of fun.

For the first time this year, though, I've included my two oldest children on the tradition as well.  A friend of ours (with whom we also happen to be hanging out this week) organizes a rather sophisticated contest for the NCAA basketball tournament, with prizes handed out primarily for the sake of prestige (more than financial gain, like most "bracket pools" in the USA).  Thus, together, Elliot, and Olivia, and I are now vying for the coveted March Madness Traveling Tropy (and yes, the spelling on that last word is, in fact, correct) -- and competing amongst ourselves to see whose skills in sports prognostication are the most developed.

It's funny to see how Elliot and Olivia approach the selection process.  Elliot used some degree of logic -- albeit a rather unusual sort of logic -- in making his picks.  He asked a number of questions and sought my input on a number of occasions, pausing at times to genuinely consider a difficult pick in his mind.  But ultimately, he made his picks according to his own wisdom -- which seemed to be primarily linked to acquaintance and familiarity with the names of the schools in the tournament.  American University (a lowly #15 seed) was picked to advance a few rounds, "because I'm American." Kent State was picked to win a few rounds because it's an Ohio school.  Siena was picked for a number of upsets (making it all the way to the "Elite 8"), because Elliot and Olivia have a friend named Sienna.  Likewise, West Virginia (though not quite as much of a long-shot as Siena) was picked for the "Sweet 16" because Elliot has a cousin named Virginia.  Ultimately, Elliot picked Wisconsin and Texas to be playing for the championship -- Wisconsin because "Daddy used to live there," and Texas because his cousins Aydan and Brennan live there.  Don't ask me how he figured out that Texas would be his ultimate pick for the national championship.

Olivia, on the other hand, seemed to use almost no logic in making her picks.  Remarkably, she didn't even hesitate from one choice to the next.  At first, I thought she was just picking the second team that I mentioned (i.e. a question of "Team A or Team B" would always result in an answer of "Team B")... But as I experimented with this hypothesis, it was definitively disproved.  Apparently, it was just the aesthetic appeal of one school's name over another.  Thus, she picked three of the #16 seeds (the lowest teams with the longest odds of success) to advance to the second round (even though such an upset has never occurred in the history of the NCAA Tournament, up to this point).  And her Final Four were Boise State (a #14 seed), Austin-Peay (a #15 seed), Georgia (#14 seed), and Gonzaga (#7 seed) -- with, who else, Boise State winning the national title.

What's really funny, though, in all of this is that Elliot and Olivia honestly have as much of a chance to do well with their predictions (Well... OK, Olivia less than Elliot)... You never can tell when it comes to March Madness.