And he is so excited.
The star student gets to be the line leader. He gets other perks as well but my child couldn't actually remember what any of these perks were.
So we cranked out the book today, finished his homework for the week and now just have the poster left to do. I sat before my computer screen wondering what in the world I was supposed to say in a love letter to my six-year-old. A six-year-old needs some street cred on the playground so it couldn't be overly sappy but the same six-year-old needs to know that his parents think the world of him.
I wrote the following and somewhat desperately wanted to go with him to class and video tape the look on his teacher's face while she was reading it.
Dear
Garrett,
We haven’t really known how to tell
you this before so we decided that your Super Star week was as good a time as
any. The truth is, that story about being born on a steamy hot day in July is
only partly true. It was hot, sure. But it wasn’t San Diego and it wasn’t in a
hospital.
You’re no stranger to adoption, Son. You know that families are made in all kinds of incredible ways. You know all about how your brother was never in my tummy but he’s no less your brother because of that fact. The truth about you, dear boy, is that we stumbled upon the wreckage of a space ship while we were living for a short time in Kansas. Short because I personally feel that Kansas should be blotted out of the United States and replaced with a large lake. Or perhaps, even, a giant mall. But I digress.
Upon finding the space ship, we decided to explore it. We had no children so what did it matter if we were accidentally beamed up into the atmosphere? Now, we had been hoping and praying for a baby for a long time—that much of the story we’ve told you is true. But what we haven’t explained is that there, in the wreckage of twisted metal and space travel gone bad, was a tiny baby boy.
That boy was you.
That’s why your head was so big when you were a baby. Aliens always have disproportionate heads. Not that I’ve met a lot of aliens but, you know, Hollywood usually gets these things right. Right?
It turns out that you are actually from the planet Krypton. Your birthfather, Jor-El rocketed you off Krypton just moments before its destruction. Your birth name is Kal-El but we really thought people would make fun of that. Not to discount your heritage by any means but we couldn't find it anywhere on the list of top baby names. For some reason that we truly cannot explain, we briefly considered naming you Clark Kent. But then we remembered that our last name isn't Kent so it didn't really make a lot of sense.
You are six. You’re in kindergarten. You’re the Star Student this week. So we decided it was high time to let you in on a little secret. You’re actually Superman. But don’t worry, all this new information doesn’t change anything and certainly shouldn’t confuse you. So, you know, have a great day!
We love you and we’ll talk later. Especially about kryptonite. Don't let us forget to have that particular discussion. It's kind of a doozy.
You’re no stranger to adoption, Son. You know that families are made in all kinds of incredible ways. You know all about how your brother was never in my tummy but he’s no less your brother because of that fact. The truth about you, dear boy, is that we stumbled upon the wreckage of a space ship while we were living for a short time in Kansas. Short because I personally feel that Kansas should be blotted out of the United States and replaced with a large lake. Or perhaps, even, a giant mall. But I digress.
Upon finding the space ship, we decided to explore it. We had no children so what did it matter if we were accidentally beamed up into the atmosphere? Now, we had been hoping and praying for a baby for a long time—that much of the story we’ve told you is true. But what we haven’t explained is that there, in the wreckage of twisted metal and space travel gone bad, was a tiny baby boy.
That boy was you.
That’s why your head was so big when you were a baby. Aliens always have disproportionate heads. Not that I’ve met a lot of aliens but, you know, Hollywood usually gets these things right. Right?
It turns out that you are actually from the planet Krypton. Your birthfather, Jor-El rocketed you off Krypton just moments before its destruction. Your birth name is Kal-El but we really thought people would make fun of that. Not to discount your heritage by any means but we couldn't find it anywhere on the list of top baby names. For some reason that we truly cannot explain, we briefly considered naming you Clark Kent. But then we remembered that our last name isn't Kent so it didn't really make a lot of sense.
You are six. You’re in kindergarten. You’re the Star Student this week. So we decided it was high time to let you in on a little secret. You’re actually Superman. But don’t worry, all this new information doesn’t change anything and certainly shouldn’t confuse you. So, you know, have a great day!
We love you and we’ll talk later. Especially about kryptonite. Don't let us forget to have that particular discussion. It's kind of a doozy.
Love,
Mom & Dad
Mom & Dad
I opted not to send this one with him. Instead I wrote him a brief, somewhat sweet, somewhat funny, hopefully perfect balance of making him feel loved but not making him feel dorky, letter. But I really think he would have appreciated the Superman letter so much more.
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