Today was my birthday, one of the integer-multiple-of-ten ones that’s supposed to be a milestone. And, really, to the extent that it does prompt self-reflection, it’s nice to be reminded that the last several decades have been pretty good to me: I’ve got a really good job, a great family, and the whole nice-house-in-the-suburbs life that a middle-class American of my generation is supposed to be going for.
Interestingly, while we did go to a birthday party today, it wasn’t mine– one of SteelyKid’s friends from day care turns three in a couple of days, so we went to a party for her at a local indoor playground place. So, a good chunk of my birthday was spent following SteelyKid around while she bounced on a trampoline, and went down a surprisingly fast slide. To the extent that this birthday provoked any inflation of my self-importance, that could be seen as a nice ironic commentary to bring my ego back down. And I’m OK with that, because she’s pretty awesome.
And that’s really about all I have to say about that.
Happy Birthday!
Pretty sweet, getting to celebrate your birthday at an indoor playground, except it probably didn’t have go karts and bumper cars. Doubly sweet that you got to celebrate Father’s Day a day early, the best way possible, being Father.
As a being of pure intellect I scoff at your limited temporal extent.