The character on his shirt can be translated as "without enemy" or as "invincible."
Twelve years ago, it looked like he would be born on the 7th, but he took his time, and stretched the event out an extra four hours, emerging before dawn on the 8th.
This was mildly disappointing to me at the time, because his two big brothers had both been born on the 7th of their birth months; I'd arrived on the 14th myself, and we'd just missed a chance to be multiples of one another.
But this littlest guy, now 12, would have none of it. Over the years, I've come to appreciate how unique his approach to life is, his outlook, his humor, and his innate curiosity about everything from science to history to movie-making to politics.
It's good he decided to break any mold that I would have imposed on him, right from the start. If you're the third of three sons and the fifth of six kids, you don't want a parent who thinks he already knows all there is to know about raising you.
Thanks to Dylan, I never think that way. He's teaching me new ways to be a parent every day.
***
"Not quite yet, my friend," my post root-canaled tooth declared late on Monday. Turns out I have an infection around the tooth that requires further medication and is exerting plenty of continuing pain. Thus, my absence from blogging yesterday, the briefness of this today.
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