A Younger Brother's Day in the Sun

My younger boy is an extraordinary individual. He's cute, he's funny, he's good at sports, he's smart, BUT he has an older brother and is therefore outshined in almost everything he does. A fact that my older boy used to flaunt openly, but has learned to pass along in a more subtle fashion. And this is not a knock on my older boy; I think that similar dynamics play out in families all around the world.
This last week was different. My older son, poor guy, had strep throat. It was my younger boy's time to shine. While my older boy convalesced TV-side, treating his sore throat with the soothing balm of movies seen for the hundredth time, my younger boy seized the day (days). On Monday and Wednesday of last week, my boy started Tae Kwon Do. He killed it. The teacher was demanding excellent 'martial-arts manners' from the children in the class. Children who demonstrated such decorum were picked first to spar (flag-spar, not actual fighting). My boy was picked first both days. He demonstrated a restrained ferocity in his sizzling kicks, his hands nearly burst into flame while he was executing his block and punch manoeuvers. And, yes, he looked ultra-smooth in his Tae Kwon Do outfit.
His academics were another source of pride this past week. In journaling (which is done every morning in kindergarten), my son's letters were clear and legible, his ideas creative and inspiring, and yes, his artwork was AWESOME. His, 'This is the Planet Earth,' was particularly evocative. And his, 'My space-craft goes 50 miles per hour,' was dazzling. My little man started the year with 'tornado' as a frequent entry. The picture was scribbled pencil. Now, his sentences are complete and descriptive. And the blues and greens of the earth (he needed to use 5 different colors, so he used different hues) were mesmorizing.
And sports? He was crazy-good. On Monday, he had basketball practice. The coach didn't show up, so no basketball was actually played, but my son's stance, his savoir-faire, his ball handling as he dribbled in impatience: exemplary. Then, on Thursday when I picked my boy up from school, basketball came up again. In response to my asking about his day, my son said (allow me to choke up, here), "daddy, in gym coach G set up baskets for us to shoot at, but they were really short. I asked if I could shoot on the ten foot hoops. I hit my first shot. Coach said I was the only kindergartener to do this. Then, I hit five more shots!"
And I have only covered part of his awesomeness this past week. His Renaissance-man, well-roundedness hit its zenith on Saturday when, for a school open-house, my boy played violin with the fifth grade orchestra. He took, 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,' and made it his own. Strangers came up to me (as did friends and teachers) to comment on my boy's excellent playing, his courage, and his cuteness. Now, to be fair, had my son known he was going to be the only kindergartener, I do not think he would have agreed (we were under the impression that multiple kindergarteners were playing). It also helped my son's already considerable cuteness that it was a dress-uniform occasion. He always looks smooth in khakis with button-down shirt and tie.
It has indeed been quite a week for my younger son. He's excelled in manners (at least at Tae Kwon Do), in academics, in sports, and in music. Still, he shined in a more nuanced area as well: usage of quotes from movies/comedic timing to difuse tense situations.
Last Sunday, my boys and my wife (as they are doing this winter) went skiing. They do this with the family of my younger boy's best friend, N. The fun of skiing has been enhanced because we really like N's family: his mother, M, a friendly interesting woman, and N's father, J, a really nice, laid-back guy with a nice sense of humor. On the way back, N was, as young boys are known to do, misbehaving. His father, J, told him to stop fidgeting and stay in his seat. N fidgeted. J repeated his request; he pointed out that not obeying was a safety issue. His son ignored him. "Stay in your seat," J said, louder. N, unimpressed, fidgeted still. J was truly riled at this point. "STAY IN YOUR SEAT. I MEAN IT," J screamed. This was followed by an awkward silence. J's shouted "I MEAN IT" seemed to reverberate throughout the shocked car. "Does anybody want a peanut?" my boy dead-panned. The humor of this interaction may escape most of you. But for any who love, as my wife and I do, the movie "The Princess Bride," it should resonate. (My son was reciting Andre' the Giant's line, "does anybody want a peanut?" A response to Wallace Shawn's outraged, "STOP RHYMING, I MEAN IT!!") An artful use of humor to disarm a tense moment. Genius. Further proof of a younger brother's day in the sun.