Happy 6th Birthday Colton Godfrey
What I remember most from the past year

Today you turned 6 years old. Time continues to fly, and it seems like only yesterday you turned 5. But so much has happened during that year. Here are some of my favorite memories, in no particular order.
School: You were a little choked up on your first day, but you tried to be strong for us. You blossomed. You’d always loved math, but suddenly you loved to draw. To experiment. To make new things instead of just observing and assessing things that already exist.
But recess was your favorite. Playing basketball with your friends. Racing. Who knows what else, but just being a kid and having fun.
Frogs: You drew frogs. So. Many. Frogs. Frogs racing cars, frogs playing sports, frogs just hanging out. You taught your brother to draw frogs. You taught me to draw frogs. We bought stuffed frogs. We read books about frogs. You created stories about frog pirates searching for gold.
Soccer: We put you with the older kids so you wouldn’t be bored. And you weren’t. I remember your hustle. You got to balls because you ran the fastest. Because you ran the hardest. And so you scored goals. But you preferred defense.
I remember how much you cared. You grabbed two kids who were staring wistfully at the ground and said “you guys need to pay attention!” A little intense. But in fairness, they were the entire defensive line.

Curiosity: Your thirst for knowledge is insatiable. You started asking questions about Santa Claus that I couldn’t quite answer. I played dumb, and you played along. You asked about outer space, animals, rocks, and any word you didn’t recognize. I learned to be more careful in what I say.
Flag Football: Again, you were the youngest. It took you a while to get the hang of it. It was several games before you scored your first point or pulled your first flag. But once you got it, you got it. You scored some touchdowns, pulled flags, and contained the defensive edge. And through it all, your attitude was excellent. You cared more about the team than yourself. You were, first and foremost, a great teammate.

Lake Tahoe. You skied on the mountain, sledded in the yard, and helped me build a snowman. And you loved hanging out with two of your best buddies — Jack DeCoons and Uncle Joey.


Sports fandom: You loved to play, but you also obsessed over watching sports. Taking in everything. Analyzing it all. Your attention to detail is astonishing. At any moment in any baseball game you know the score, the count, the situation, and what it means for the game. You’d love keeping score with pencil and paper if that was still a thing.
You spent as many hours as we’d let you watching American Ninja Warrior. You created little obstacle courses with the sofa and ottoman. You tattooed it on your arm.

You went to baseball games in three cities, and never wanted to leave early. You dreamed of catching a fly ball. Maybe next year. You loved the Giants and hated the Dodgers, as any true bay area fan should. You loved the Cardinals, for reasons that still aren’t clear. And of course you loved the ‘Dubs. You got so sad when they lost, which thankfully was rare. One day we’ll get you to a Warriors game too.

Running: On Thanksgiving you came to watch me run the Gobble Wobble 10k. You joined me on the podium, then did the kid’s race yourself. You took 3rd and never let us forget it. You were hooked. You dragged mom to the Aragon track to time your laps. And then to time your miles (less than 9 minutes!).
Your cousins came to visit and brought you a fitbit. You walked laps around the deck and all over the house to “get your steps”. Over 30,000 the first day, 20,000 before noon.
Trying new things: We went to the park and when you saw kids sliding on cardboard boxes, you had to try it. You learned to snowboard without snow.

You and Cam worked on your headstands.


And you’re constantly building stuff. Magna-tile structures 6-feet high. Complicated race tracks for your hot wheels. Forts with the sofa cushions. Life is an adventure for you.
Games: Uno, Sorry, Candyland, Go Fish, Dominos, Blackjack, Zingo, Bingo, Rock-Paper-Scissors, Connect Four, Penguino. This is just a partial list of games you love to hate. Or maybe hate to love. Competition rules. And when you lose — how about two out of three?

Baseball: Your age said tee-ball, but your heart said baseball. You’d never swung anything besides a wiffle bat, or held a real baseball. At tryouts, you borrowed a bat, improvised with your glove, and showed enough promise to get drafted into baseball. You were 5. Everyone else was between 6–8.
You had some rough times. At the first practice you got hit by a pitch. After a few tears you took your turn at bat again. One game you forgot your hat, and couldn’t get over it. Everyone gets to have their moment.
You worked incredibly hard. Practicing your throwing, catching, hitting, and fielding. You took a grounder off the face because you took “get low” a bit too literally.

While playing right field you ran past two other outfielders to field a ball in left-center. You were the smallest player, with the biggest heart. You got the first game ball — not because you went 3–3 at the plate, but for your hustle.
I LOVED watching you play. Win or lose, safe or out, I loved it.

Your team won the tournament. It didn’t (couldn’t) make me any prouder than I already was. But it made me happy to see you rewarded for your hard work.
Basketball. It was just a part-time thing, a way to fill the few gaps in baseball. But you learned to dribble with both hands. And shoot overhand. And pass. You started shooting in the backyard. Playing with others, sure. But also practicing alone. Honing your craft.

Visiting Grandma. Anytime she came to visit us, you were so happy. You’d count the days until she arrived, and tear up when she left. So your excitement to visit her was off the charts. You and Cam spent hours upon hours on the slip-n-slide, and jumping into a raft filled with water. And shooting water cannons at each other. And turning the hose on each other. You didn’t bathe for 10 days, but it’s probably the cleanest you’ve ever been.

You learned how to play badminton. You met dad’s aunts and uncles, brother and cousins. And your 2nd cousins. You started to build the bonds of family. And you somehow came home with 10 fidget spinners.

Family. You wrestle and fight endlessly with Cam. One minute you’re laughing. The next you’re screaming. Rinse, repeat.

You continue to (mostly) ignore Clara. Which was probably just fine with her. Although recently you’ve asked to help change her diapers. I’m not sure you know what you’re in for.
You help mom when she asks. Most of the time.
You look forward to our Sunday facetime calls with Grandma. You wrote thank-you notes for A-ma and A-gong. You bonded with your cousins when they came to visit.

You tolerate my sarcasm, even if you occasionally beg me to “stop being funny.” I’m trying.
You’re kind, conscientious, caring, and pretty darn selfless for a 6 year old. Your smile lights up a room. You bring joy to my days and purpose to my life.
Happy birthday son.
