His mother.

Two friends and one of their fathers.

Jessi’s sister and her husband.

Delia, who was not invited as a psychologist and who brought a cake.

Me.

The first launch failed.

The engine fired and the rocket went about forty feet sideways and put itself into a hedge, and there was a moment where I watched my son’s face do the whole arc — delight, then confusion, then the flat furious look of a child in front of an audience — and I had about one second to decide what kind of man to be.

And what came out of my mouth was: “That’s a fin.