Seventh Heaven

David Taft Bradbury was born on 11/9/11.  A number he ruefully mentions every year wishing that he had waited two more days to be able to claim 11/11/11 at 11:11:11 a.m. as his birthday.  On the morning of his big day I called and told him the bad news, “I’m sorry son but I won’t be able to be home for your birthday.” He was very understanding but still, at seven years old your birthday is a pretty darn important event.  

I went to class that morning and my compadre, Nick, opens up the schedule for the upcoming weekend.  “Hey dude, it looks like we are off for the whole three-day weekend and we aren’t scheduled for anything on Tuesday either. You gonna go home?”  Honestly, I hadn’t even considered it a possibility. I hadn’t packed anything or even looked at flights.  Plus, our schedule had us staying until 2:30 pm and there was no way to make it to OKC and catch a standby flight and a connection standby to Pensacola.  Or was there?

I spent most of the class sneaking looks at my phone to try and book a flight.  It was tight but if I ran and broke a few rural speed limits I could catch one out that night.  It worked out just perfectly.  The flight out of OKC was actually delayed an hour.  That helped me catch that flight, however the second leg into Florida was sure to be gone by the time I landed.  And it was.  After running from one concourse to the next only to find my flight departed I sprinted back to the first concourse to catch another, delayed, flight into Ft Walton Beach. I jumped on and made it all the way home that evening.  

Aden gave me a ride home from the airport and I snuck into David’s room to wish the sleeping baby boy Bradbury a happy seventh birthday, on his seventh birthday.  It was a sweet Dad moment.

The next morning David snuck into his mother’s room to find me in there and he almost exploded. Literally.  He got a full running start and leapt through the air with every bit of momentum that a little tiny body can muster only to come down on top of me, knees first, in what has come to be known as a “Davie Detonator” wake up call.  I was very disoriented but quickly came around and the wrestling began that didn’t end until I got out of the car at the airport this evening on my way back.

We had such a great time. We played and talked and messed around a lot.  We watched the Harry Potter spin off called Mysterious Creatures and had a great time at church.  Mackay did a ton of homework he had left over from being at Space Camp last week.  (I’m still super jealous).  On Saturday Brigham had a birthday party at a local bowling alley so the rest of us hit up the USAF Armament Museum near Eglin.  The two younger boys didn’t know they wanted to hear me talk all day about each airplane, but they got it anyway.  It was really nice to share those stories and teach them a bit about their military heritage on Veterans Day (weekend).  

These kids were so amazing and I loved every second with them.  David cuddled with me like he was growing off my right side.  Mackay craves attention and positive reassurance.  I love that boy and want nothing more than to give it to him.  Brigham is recovering from his nasty hand foot and mouth bout and growing something fierce.  They are really great and I miss them already.

I may have experienced a last.  While hiking around the airplanes, David asked me to put him up on my shoulders. I threw him up on top and noticed how difficult it was to get him there.  After a minute or two he asked to come down to simple piggy-back ride because he didn’t feel comfortable up there.  I guess I’m no longer a young Dad.  My baby doesn’t want to ride on my shoulders anymore and possibly won’t ever again.  That sucks. But really cool at the same time. 

Like I said, I miss them already.