Happy Birthday Brian

I must say that you've managed to overcome the disappointment I felt when mom walked through the front door with another baby wrapped in a blue blanket. I don't know which was worse - that she'd not brought home a sister, or that she whisked you back to the master bedroom and my next clear memory of you is when you bit my finger and drew blood in the shade of the maple tree on Anderson. A whole year of your existence, just gone.

Other Brian classics:

• The bag of candy you refused to share on your last day at The Early Learning Center and consumed in one stomach wrenching afternoon;
• The time Mom insisted that a bite of potato would not make you sick and you proved her gloriously, copiously wrong. In technicolor blue;
• The day you crushed Michael’s kindergarten dreams, picked up the bike he’d been trying so hard to master and zipped down the street while he howled in bitter anguish;
• Dressing you up as a Star and taking you trick or treating because you were sick and Mom said you could only go supervised;
• Cutting your hair the day before middle school started;
• Stuffing you into the new city issued 1578 gallon trashcan, tipping it and surfing the slightly battered contents down the driveway;
• Maury Meyers;
• Riding with Mom and Dad all the way from Texas to Florida because you were too cheap to chip in for gas in the fun car;
• Having to pick bell peppers out of your sandwich (you were how old?) on the same trip;
• Who could forget the side-of-the-interstate-during-a-hurricane fight with Mike over driving safety? Sweet irony;
• And of course your childhood opus, “I’m smrt”.

Chronologically the years say that you’re an adult, but you’re still the kid brother and the last 33 years have been full of laughter. Don’t grow up too much.

Cheers.

From the mouths of babes...

For my mother, who insists that I record such things.

Ashton finished her inaugural year of CCD after dropping out last year. A year from now she'll be making first communion, and managed to overcome her nerves regarding this situation when I mentioned "new dress, party and gifts". Sadly, reconciliation (confession) must come first, and there is no dress, party or present. She's understandably not thrilled, but it was not fear of having a chat with Fr. Jan or remembering which prayer goes where that has her on edge. No, she hemmed and hawed and finally admitted "But Momma, I've taken a LOT of stuff". It's a relief to know I'm not crazy - things really are disappearing on a regular basis.

The trend continued when an actions and consequences activity at school involved listing a few things that she had done wrong at home and what had happened.

A: And for one I said you spanked me!
E: (silently, Oh God) For what?
A: I don't remember.
E: Seriously, what did you say I spanked you for?
A: Hmmmm.... Momma, it's too hard to remember.
E: Well, let's go through the list. Can't be too much, right?
A: Oh Momma, there is. I filled all the lines on the paper except the last two!

Increasingly verbal and yet with a slightly more limited vocabulary, interaction with Sage can be either lightness and joy or an exercise in biting one's tongue. She hasn't been feeling well, and had a bit of a scratchy throat the other day. "Momma, I have the wrong voice today." It's because you're sick. "I'm not sick". Well, maybe it's because you're a little congested. "What's congested?" Your nose and chest are stuffy. "Stuffy? Why do I have the wrong voice? When will I get the right voice???" You're just a little hoarse. "I AM NOT A HORSE!"

Is 7 AM too early for wine?