The Age Card

On New Year's Eve, our children winding down (surely it was 2011 somewhere), I started pointing out the last (toothbrushing, pajama-changing, praying, etc.) of 2010. Except I didn't initially say "2010." The year whose passing I started lamenting was...
1997.
Thirteen years ago.
1997 was the last year I welcomed by name, and targeted as a year worthy of celebration.
1997 was high school graduation.
Everything after 1997 was simply, "after I graduate..."Sure, I knew what I was doing post-1997, but none of those events had a year tied to them as firmly as did 1997: The Year I Graduate High School. I hadn't circled 2001 as the year I would get married; I didn't celebrate 2003 as the Year of the College Grad; and the New Millennium (2000) was not a big deal in my mind, since I knew I would be serving a mission for my church during that transition, and wouldn't be up celebrating anything past 10:30 pm.
But in high school, 1997 had been driven into my mind as an important year, our year. Everything thereafter was, potentially, nonexistent. Even the years preceding 1997 were big deals. 1996: I'm almost a senior. 1995: Driver's license! 1994: High school!!
I didn't always anticipate years this way. Before I matured, I anticipated actual ages.
As a child, age is the pillar supporting self-esteem. Child No.4 has served as a constant reminder of this fact. She is three, but continually plays the Age Card:

"Daddy, look what I can do!"
"Woa! When did you learn how to do an aerial?!"
(Let-me-explain-it-to-you look) "That's because I'm almost four."

However, she can just as quickly use her age to rationalize her actions:

"Hey woa, what'd you do that for, No.4?"
"That's because I'm only three."

I think I will start playing the Age Card. For example, in pickup basketball:

"Hey, nice shot, Josh."
"That's because I'm almost thirty-two."

Or when cleaning the kitchen:

"Daddy, you're not very good at cleaning the kitchen."
"That's because I'm only thirty-one."

Who knows? Maybe I'd start welcoming years by name again.