Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Happy Birthday, Middle Child!

Dear Boy#2,

Happy birthday!

Exactly a quarter century ago, at this very moment--well, we won't go into what was going on at this very moment because I'm sure it involved lots of personal exposure that I have blocked from my memory and do not care to share with the internet. But worth it! Because a few hours later we met the result of that exposure,  a compact little bundle of joy who would grow up to be almost 6'4" of joy.

We were so, so, so happy to have you here! Your father was so happy that he apparently wore a tie to your birth. (He just walked past as I was writing this and asked who was in this picture, and when I told him it was his handsome younger self, he said "What was I doing wearing a tie?" The mysteries of the universe get more mysterious as we get older.)

Anyway, we are thinking of you on this, your special day. You would not know that, of course, because we are TERRIBLE PARENTS. That birthday cake you don't have? The card that wasn't sent? The present that wasn't lovingly wrapped in balloon paper and mailed? Yes. Terrible parents.

But we've been thinking of you. Not as much as this woman, of course, who put this party together for a child who ISN'T EVEN BORN YET. Little Aubree Mae is just a few weeks past her parents idly mentioning "Hey, what do you think about having kids?", and still her party was better than all your parties have ever been, added together and squared.

(Rabbit trail: Among the many things I'm glad hadn't been invented yet during my pregnancies: Gender reveal parties, which would have been awkward for us since we didn't know the gender of any of you Boys until Dr. B announced it when you were born. Also form-fitting maternity clothes, because, ewwwww.)

Anyway, our lack of hooplah over your 25th birthday is diametrically opposite to how happy we are that you're our kid--the antipodal point, you math guys might say. Or you might not because I may be using the term wrong, but you've always been patient with my utter lack of mathematical knowledge despite your amazing abilities in that area.

In spite of your parents, you're the best Boy#2 ever.

The Worst Parents Ever

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