My son's father, Dave, was born on December 25th. So he never really had a birthday party as a kid, he just got one or two extra packages under the tree. Yesterday when we talked, I made a point of saying Happy Birthday to him, and he kind of grunted, as if he had been trying to forget about it.

But I like to remember it, because I am glad he was born. He is a good friend and a terrific co-parent, and I am grateful he is in my life. Our "Scandinavian divorce" is working out quite well, I am happy to report. Makes life more interesting, anyhow.


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