You are now old enough to start learning how to drive and to find whole new ways to give your mother heart failure. In another year, you'll be old enough to date, and I'm trying very, very hard not to think about that right now, and let's just not mention that to your father, dear, or he'll likely have a meltdown. I mean, he's still trying to adjust to you being old enough to have a moon cycle, know what I mean?
May I say that I am continually amazed by you? I'm amazed by the amount of destruction you leave in your wake in whatever room you're in, I'm amazed by the leaps and bounds you make in your art work, I'm stunned by the maturity you show on occasion, and flabbergasted when I find you happily playing with the Tall Blonde's 3 year old son like the two of you are the best pals ever. I love it that you get my humor, and you tolerate your papa's really awful puns, and I love your sly, subtle humor and the truly devious way your mind works. Please to not be using your evil Jedi mind tricks against your mother, though, since I'm the one who taught them to you, by the way.
And may I apologize for the geekdom I have utterly doomed you to, for I did not know that I was having you on Star Wars Day. Didn't do it on purpose, I promise, but you know, the fact that my water broke while we were watching "The X Files" should have been a big, huge red flag.
Anyway, Happy Birthday, O Impertinent One!!
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