Little Meanie

Take 15 pounds of boy; add a double dose of rambunctiousness, an extra scoop of curiosity, a pinch more impatience and maybe just a wee bit shorter fuse, and you have Michael when I first met him. He was 3 years old and Sue’s pride and joy. He never met a chance at adventure that he didn’t like.

He took to me okay. He was a little apprehensive at first, but I guess that’s normal. He was more excited that I had a son and usually when I came to visit, so did Douglas. When his mom and I got married, he was most happy about getting a brother and sister at the same time. Instant family, why wait?

He called me “Big Meanie” and I called him “Little Meanie”, but I can’t remember why. He was teasing me because he always had a smile on his face.

After we got married and I started the process to adopt him, he thought it was great, especially when we told him he would get to change his name. When we told him his name was now Michael Presley he was a little confused. He said he thought he could change it to Michael Jackson.

He was not one to mess around with procedures. If you were going to punish him, he wanted it over with as quickly as possible. None of this long, drawn out stuff. When he was about 5 I grounded him for some long forgotten infraction. He was to remain in his room for the rest of the day. After about a half hour, he came downstairs and told me, “Dad, just beat me and get it over with.”

I told him a long time ago that he was the only one of my kids that I got to choose, and it’s true. There is some apprehensions about assuming the total responsibility for someone you didn’t help bring into the world, but that has long since dissipated, and I have no regrets --- even during the trying teen years,

Michael has found his niche in the world and is doing well. He is married and has 4 kids, two he inherited when he got married. He’s doing well, and I’m proud of him.