Sweet Child O' Mine

Michael King.

One of the most important figures of our lifetime.

Well, you may know him as Martin.

Martin Luther King.

Jr.

In 1935, King’s father changed his name and his son’s name from Michael.

To Martin Luther.

In honor of the 16th Century German Protestant Reformer.

I learned this last week.

From my seven-year old daughter.

My seven-year old daughter who skipped first grade earlier this school year.

Yes, I probably should’ve known this about Mr. King before last week.

But they somehow forgot to teach us that information.

At my Hebrew Day School.

This morning she told me that the Statue of Liberty was modeled after the sculptor’s mother.

What kind of school is she going to?

What happened to extended recess?

My daughter is in a great time in her life.

Sure, she bickers with her older brother.

And sometimes with her older sister.

But at age 7, almost everything is perfect.

Oh to be seven again.

Tomorrow is a big day in her little life.

Maybe the biggest so far.

Maybe the biggest day of the 2,746 she has spent on this earth.

Tomorrow will begin like any other.

With a smile.

That’s how she begins every morning.

But that’s where the similarities end.

Sometime around Noon she’ll be on the steps of our State Capitol building.

Reading an essay.

An essay she wrote.

An essay voted the best in our state.

From anyone in her grade.

When I got the call a couple of weeks ago, you would’ve thought it was Ed McMahon on the phone.

With one of those giant checks.

I was so excited someone I had something to do with was so special.

Of course, I didn’t need the phone call to tell me that.

But it was a nice reminder.

This girl is truly something special.

And I am lucky enough to live it up close and personal every day.

She loves singing and soccer and school.

She even loves things that don’t begin with the letter S.

Like softball....

Um, swimming.

Let’s move on.

The point is, she loves life.

And I love watching her love life.

Sure, there are many days I’m home, wishing I wasn’t.

But there is never a day that I don’t want to be with her.

Or her brother.

Or her sister.

And that’s a gift Mr. McMahon couldn’t touch.

Now for most humans, including myself, a trip to the State Capitol would be the day’s headline.

But tomorrow, that’s just the beginning for her.

When we are done there, we are heading back to her school.

For the annual talent show.

As a second grader, she had to go through an audition process.

I’m guessing Simon Cowell wasn’t there.

But I know they didn’t let just anyone in.

My daughter has a lot of talents she could’ve brought to the table.

But she chose to sing.

And why not.

She’s been participating in a local choir for the last year.

But singing a song in English...

...that would’ve been too easy.

Instead, she chose a Spanish song.

Except she doesn’t speak Spanish.

But something attracted her to Cielito Lindo.

The legendary Mariachi song.

You know it.

Ay, ay, ay, ay,
Canta y no llores......

You know it.

Trust me.

And I know it too.

Well I knew it before the talent show.

But I  r e a l  l y  know it now.

She’s been singing it around the house non-stop for the last few weeks.

Who knew I had the words wrong all this time.

Let there be no doubt, I’m very proud of all of my kids.

That’s my job.

(My only job.)

And I truly celebrate every one of their accomplishments.

But there is something very special about tomorrow.

Now it shouldn’t come as any surprise that my kids are talented.

I won things too.

Um...

Like...

...In 12th grade.

In 12th grade I stuffed more marshmallows in my mouth than anyone else in high school.

34.

That’s a talent.

Right?