An Eight-Year Journey

November and December are amazing, awe-inspiring months for me. Of course, they boast a few prominent holidays, filled with perfectly packaged opportunities to give thanks for the people in our lives and rejoice in Christ's birth.

For me, though, the holidays really kick off with a true miracle. My son, Jacob, was born the Tuesday after Thanksgiving in 2001. We were expecting a holiday baby, but it was the wrong holiday. His due date was actually in early January. But six weeks early we had an extra-special reason to be thankful. His years that followed have been full of joy, heart-ache (ours, as we realize he is growing up so quickly), and wonder.

Most kids just take turning a year older for granted. Jacob did. Just imagine his surprise when I told him that the state of California was taking a new stance on aging. It's not a given, it's an earned right. So he had to apply to the state to turn eight years old.

"What?!?!?" said he.

"Yup," I replied. "It's a new thing. Sorry buddy, but you're not grandfathered in on this one. The state's website tells us that you've got to collect three letters of reference, and they can't all be from Grandma. And you've got to write a letter as well."

About a month before the big day, he got serious. He thought long and hard about who he would solicit words of praise from. He called to our next door neighbor over the backyard fence, explained his strange request, and a letter appeared in our mailbox just a few days later. She extolled his virtues, including Cub Scouts popcorn salesmanship, hoop-shooting in the backyard, and his artistic renderings of her cats.

Next he called Grandma. She was flying in the day before his birthday, so the response time from the state would be sketchy. After all, they're short-staffed and are closed every other Friday for budget cuts. She came through with her letter, praising the skills he mastered as a seven-year-old and was quite ready for the responsibility of being eight.

The third letter came from his father and me. That was an easy one, of course, and we threw in a few promises that we'd encourage him to continue to excel in school, soccer, and not get married until he was in his 30s.

When it came time for him to write his letter, he poured his heart and soul into it. OK, that's a blatant lie. By the 26th, he wasn't so sure that this whole application process was true. I overheard him telling his grandma this over the phone. When I asked him later on why he was working on his letter, he said, "well, what if it IS true, and I didn't do it? I'd be seven FOREVER!"

Here's what he came up with:

"My name is Jacob Sevilla. I want to turn eight. I talk like an eight-year-old. And I'm good at basketball and soccer. I'm always nice to other people, animals and nature. I'm about to receive first communion in second grade. Please let me turn eight tomorrow!"

The Governator's team pulled through in the last hour, and e-mailed an approval to us on Friday. It was pretty touch and go, though.

The other day I told him that the state was considering making a new law about turning nine that would involve either interpretive dance or becoming a mime.

He's considering his options. He might enjoy eight for a while.