Game Highlights and Birthday Wishes

I am, of course, a Kansas City Chiefs fan. That makes it mighty hard to root for the Denver Broncos, even if I'm a Peyton Manning fan so I wasn't devastated by the results of last night's "game" which was a game only in the sense that there were teams on the field and a coin toss by a large furry animal before it started. This "game" was over after one play.

But I do love the Super Bowl in that it's one of two times during the year I prop a plate on my lap in front of the television and eat pizza guilt-free. (The other time is March Madness finals.)

It isn't that I don't eat pizza, especially now that the empty nest means that toppings can include MUSHROOMS and BLACK OLIVES and other delicacies the Boys would not describe as edible. All of the other 87 times I eat pizza each year, though, it arrives with a hearty dish of guilt on the side. (So much crust! So much cheese! So much deliciousness! I shouldn't be eating this! Nom nom nom!)

The mushrooms on last night's super supreme, though, are dedicated to Boy#4. He is the person in our clan who most dislikes fungus on his food (his phrase), so I thought of him with each delicious bite.

I also thought of him because today he is 22 years old. Twenty-two! How could he be celebrating this many years, when it was just yesterday that I waddled into the hospital and discovered his head was lodged right beneath my sternum, generating a delivery-room crowd that probably violated all sorts of occupancy codes as they watched a fantastic obstetrician manipulate this 9 lb. 8 oz. hunk of baby into a better position for joining the outside world. (One of the residents was standing on a chair to get a better view. No, I'm not kidding.)

Anyway, happy birthday, Four. Except for your aversion to mushrooms you have been an ideal child in almost every way. I'm glad I'm your mom.