Weirdo

I am the father of a 7-year-old boy. For those of you who currently have or have had a young boy you know what I mean when I say my son is in the “weirdo” phase. Everything is weird! He is literally incapable of speaking or acting normally. He can’t say “Mom, can I have a glass of water?” Instead, he feels the need to strike a crazy pose and say, “HEY MAMMA! Coulds your boy have a glash of WATAAAAHH!?!” He does not simply walk from point A to point B. Its like he’s perpetually stuck in the final round of the world parkour championship. I’m convinced there is a 24/7 action movie playing in his head. He’s constantly displaying his kung fu prowess against invisible foes and providing spit laden sound effects for the battle. These examples may not fully express the state of weird I’m living in. Lets just say he is weird.

Now, lets get one thing clear. I love my son. No, you don’t understand. I love my son more than life. I would take a bullet to the face for him right now. More than that, I would be tortured for that kid and not think twice about it. Seeing him, or anything related to him puts an immediate smile on my face. That being said, dudebro is so annoying right now! Go ahead, label me a horrible parent. But we all know I just said what parents of 7-year-old boys across the world have thought and never said.

The last thing I want to do is stifle his creativity or discourage finding fun in every moment of life possible. I know this is just a normal phase. It’s part of growing up. I know that without even trying my son is easily the coolest person I know. I know that soon enough this phase will be over and he’ll most likely go back to the super chill, cerebral, tenderhearted dudebro he was 7 months ago. I see glimpses of that kid peak out from behind the weird every once in a while and think, “Ah, there’s the boy I know.” But for now I often find myself rolling my eyes and being a little more aware of how people react to my weirdo in public.

This makes me think two things. First, I’d like to apologize to my parents for dragging the weirdo phase well beyond the acceptable 7 to 11 age range and extending it through high school without permission. Second, I wonder if I went through a similar phase in my faith. I think I did. When I think back on who I was two years into my faith I feel my face turn red and I can easily imagine God rolling his eyes. I imagine he thought things like, “You think that is important to me? You think that is a good way to witness to someone? You think that is what faith looks like?” Then I imagine God planting a palm on his forehead and being excited for that phase to be over. I think, or at least I hope, I’m mostly out of the weird adolescent phase of faith. That’s not to say I fully understand God and faith or that my faith is somehow superior to anyone else’s faith. I am, however, hopeful that I’m getting better at deciphering who I really am, what parts of my faith are genuine and what parts were just part of a weird phase. I hope I’m getting closer to the point where God takes his hand off his forehead and says, “There’s the guy I know.