Today is Peter’s birthday. In about an hour, he’ll officially be 37.
I get to mention this because I’m The Mom. Moms are goofy about their kids’ birthdays, even when party favors and silly games have become a relic of long ago. It’s a victory over the forces of nature that we feel entitled to share.
My kid’s kids are, I’m sure, very excited about Daddy’s presents and cake. We celebrated over the weekend, so I can relax and stay put tonight, the usual combined birthday/Christmas gift having been purchased and delivered some time ago. This year, we decided to go halves on a snow blower.
And, yes, the dry organic chocolate frosting mix worked out perfectly for the dessert, which Robert Andrew and I baked in heavy square pans, an added benefit being that it was much easier to slice than the traditional gooey multiple-layer cake in the round.
My son is a good fellow, and a hard worker. He and his wife have spent a lot of time over the past year building community groups around the welfare of children in public schools, a most worthy effort.
I suppose he’ll blog his own birthday musings, something about “no big deal” and “low key”. Someone told me once that surviving another year of adulthood is worthy of self-congratulation, so I hope he’ll indulge in at least a brief moment of same.