R wanted two things for his birthday: sunshine and an early day at work, so he could waterski or wakeboard-- I guess that's three things. He also wanted me to drive the boat, so there's four.
Well, all of his birthday wishes came true. It was a sunny day, and we spent the evening on the water, and I practiced pulling him behind the boat.
This boat driving is a bit nerve wracking. Here's how it goes: Lift up the doo-da to start the engine, start the engine, and put the doo-da down. Make sure the trim is down, and the motor is straight. Amble out so the rope is taut, but not so fast that R is skipping across the water on his nose. Keep one eyeball on Buckaroo. Watch for other boats. R yells "hit it," and I push the throttle as far as it will go.
This is where I have the most trouble: the throttle. I sort of see it as a small representation of my life in general. I'm supposed to hold the speed at 20 for the wakeboard (30 for skis), and I'm supposed to ease into the speed adjustments, so R's not lurching around all over the water back there. Unfortunately, I don't ease well, and maybe it's because I'm so busy making sure I'm not going to hit a random swimmer and that Obo is watching his dad instead of pretending to be a turtle with the beach towel, and Sweet P has got at least one finger on Buckaroo. So there's a lot of lurching-- in and out of the water.
Luckily, R is handy with a floating device and manages pretty well out there. That's kind of how our relationship goes: I lurch around from this idea to that, and sometimes slow into a major funk, and R, bless him, holds on for the ride.
I think R did enjoy his birthday, despite the lurching, the burnt grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner, and the leaning tower of cake. And if he didn't, that's ok because we're celebrating again on Sunday. One can never have too many birthdays.