When he was three days old, I brought him home.
When he was 2 and a half years old, a policeman brought him home.
In his first year of school he tried to buy $50 worth of cough lollies to share with his classmates.
Our old neighbours still tell the story about how he successfully ran away from home at the age of three, and entered their housewarming party with a carload of guests. He managed to eat half a wheel of Camembert with crackers before anyone realised that he didn’t belong to any of the people present.
He likes obscure British comedy and can mimic Little Britain skits with alarming accuracy. Particularly Bubbles DeVere.
And although he is a mischief, and stubborn, and determined to learn the hard way EVERY time, he melts me with his kisses even at my crankiest.
I am so proud of him that my heart sings when he smiles. Happy Birthday, my Lad.
May your life be bright as the sun.