My third son--our middle child, as he likes to remind us, tongue-in-cheek (whenever he wants to make it seem as though he suffered special privations as a result of being sandwiched between 2 older brothers on one side and 2 younger ones on the other)--turns 25 today. This is how he looked yesterday. At least that's how it seems to me. Where do the years go?
This boy was 22 inches long, 9 lbs. 13 oz. at birth; today, he is a great big guy: 6'3" and somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 lbs. He's grown a tad.
He was a happy baby and a happy child; and he's a happy man now: thoughtful, loving, funny, and just delightful. Wherever he is at the moment is his favorite place to be. He sees the joy in every experience, the best quality in every person. The glass is always half-full with this one. (Unless, of course, he's watching a Notre Dame game, and the Irish are losing. Or he's watching a Red Sox game, and the Sox are losing--especially to the Yankees! He can get a bit testy in those situations. But otherwise...)
Happy Birthday, my sweet middle child! I love you more than you could ever imagine.
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