So today was Max’s 12th birthday. As is our custom, she got to choose the entire menu for the day and were her sisters pleased with her choice of an ol’ fambly recipe of her maternal grandfather’s? Let me put it this way: in my experience, even the most generous children sometimes feel small pangs of jealousy when it’s someone else’s birthday. But when there’s chocolate on the breakfast table, the green-eyed monster don’t even rear his ugly head.
Later, Top Management brought the kids to the office for a visit. Due to a parking snafu, they never actually made it into the actual office. But as they did make it to the Cold Stone Creamery across the street, their grief was minor.
And as The Rose and The Bean and The Boy and I observed the large and impressive if excessively odiferous animules, Max turned around to watch the waves come in, and shrieked with laughter when one was finally big enough to explode against the sea wall with sufficient force to sprinkle us all.
And it’s (obviously) been a year since I wrote this here bit, and we’re three thousand miles away, and our lives could hardly be much more different.
But one thing hasn’t changed: I’m still the luckiest damn guy in the entire world.