Being the third kid, I sometimes forget that my tricks are new to him. That's why it surprised me some, just how much excitement he got out of a new batch of homemade playdoh, in his favorite color.
And when I threw in a little vanilla and pumpkin pie spice, just for "smelly goods," well, he thought I was the wisest mama in the world.
It's good to be someone's hero. It's better still to be called his "girl," even though today I am 34 – a far cry from girlish. That's what he says though, when I hold him, and he presses his little cheek to mine, "Mama, you're my girl."
Add to that my oldest, who can now make scrambled eggs himself, and is doing so, for me, for my birthday, right this very minute. Throw in some sweet handmade cards, and this girl is being royally spoiled.
And now here's as political as this blog is likely to ever be…
On my birthday in kindergarten, the teacher forgot to sing to me and let me choose a toy from the treasure box because the whole school was wrapped up in mock elections. I was ticked off in purple that anyone could think that stinkin' Ronald Reagan and Walter Mondale were more important than my turning 6.
I know better now.
Whatever you're doing today, make the time to vote.