Today was my husband's 31st birthday. In true Tyson form, he requested as little fuss about it as possible. (We threw him a giant party for his birthday last year, which he was a good sport about, but that kind of thing is really only appreciated every decade or so). In fact he was so thrilled when Isla was born only four days after his birthday, so that all of the attention would be on her for the rest of his life.
This afternoon, I helped the kids create birthday cards for him. Everett's said, "Happy Birthday! I love eating pizza with you!" and Isla's was a creative mix of purple paper, purple glitter paint, and purple stickers. "Pupo" is her thing at the moment. An hour before he got home from work, I raced to the grocery store to pick up a fresh slab of salmon and brocolli and threw in some sea salt chocolate chip cookies for good measure. He ate, and opened his cards with absolute delight and then took a long recovery nap after having gotten up at 4 this morning. And that was that. Best birthday ever in his book. (We are so different. On my birthday I'm over here like, oh a surprise trip to somewhere exotic would be perfect, thanks)
Happy Birthday my darling lover boy. Life is sweeter with you in it.