You’ve lived 737 days in the world. In contrast, I have lived 11,492 days. You’re still quite young, but now freshly two years old. You’ve also
We hosed you down shortly after you ate the cupcake-puppy’s eyeballs.
picked up a bad habit of late, throwing temper tantrums, but that can be attributed to wanting something and not being able to accurately convey what is is you’re wanting. Usually you want to go outside; sometimes you don’t want to share your tricycle with mom and dad—to be fair we’re slightly too large for it.
When you were first born you were a giant pain in the ass. It wasn’t your fault, you were teeny and fresh and fragile. All babies are a pain in the ass when they’re first born. Over the two years watching you grow it’s been incredible. We’ve had some pretty rough times to be sure, but overwhelmingly, you and I, we’re becoming ingrained in each other (perhaps sub-atomic soulmates, as I once argued in a paper long ago). Don’t use the word soulmates as you grow up, because it’s really cheesy and it doesn’t actually mean anything.
We’ve only just begun exploring the world together, mostly in our own neighborhoods. In the next 10,755 days, until you catch up to my current age, there will be many opportunities to see and experience so many great things. It’s going to be an awesome journey for you, and I’m thrilled that I get to be a part of it.
I was recently asked if there was anything I could go back and change with my life—this question starts being asked around high school, but really begins picking up steam somewhere after college and definitely after marriage and children. There are a lot of things that have caused heartache, discomfort, or misery throughout my life, but they’ve all lead me here. (broadly, as a single dad to the best kid; narrowly, sitting at my computer desk writing a blog in my undies at 6:55am in Grand Prairie) I’ve had a blast making a mess of things. I truly hope you can say the same one day.
Happy Birthday, kid.