FavoriteChild is 50!
That should depress my Mother. She should think about disowning him and TheOldest so she only has children in their 40’s.
Hey, FavoriteChild, I have an idea. I want to challenge you to a race.
An age race.
Ready, set, go!
Ding. I win.
Would you like to try again tomorrow? I’m game.
When we arrived at Favorite’s house for Christmas a few weeks ago, I didn’t actually see him for about the first hour. You see, along with AUBS! and the Jakester, he was inside an igloo hollowing it out. Yes, this 49 year old Uncle was playing in the snow with his 20-something niece and nephew. How immature.
By the end of the weekend, they’d created a multi-room igloo with in-law sleeping quarters, a library, and his and her walk-in closets.
The guy is like Peter Pan. He refuses to grow up. Except for the part about being a Doctor blah blah and Director of blah blah and supporting his better half’s pursuit of a blah blah PhD and always there for everyone blah blah, he refuses to grow up. It’s embarrassing, really.
You be the judge:
Yeah, I thought you would come to the same conclusion as me.
He needs to grow up. But, well, I guess being FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY FIFTY is a good start.
Happy Birthday FavoriteChild. It’s hard to imagine you could top the first fifty, but here’s to an even more amazing second fifty!