Happy Birthday, Sam

Sam dancing behind Charles dancing behind Tate (you can see his foot) at Tate and Rian's wedding last year. That's Hank laughing on the left.

This is an odd photo to pick for Sam, the birthday boy, but it makes me so happy, I couldn't resist. I love it when the boys ham it up together. There must be a name for this move, but I don't want to think about it.

Anyway, my baby boy is thirty-seven today. I was thirty-seven when I had him. He was broad shouldered and good looking from the start and he was an absolute doll. He likes his socks (see above) and has pretty much gotten the rest of us to move ahead with our sock wardrobe.

He was my Christmas baby. I remember I held him during the Christmas program at church while a woman with a gorgeous soprano voice sang Mary's lullaby to the baby Jesus."But Tonight You Are Mine," It was one of those stunning moments in church.

He was delightful in every way, except at age two, he had a habit of walking off. The first time he did
this, we were all playing hopscotch in the driveway and then he was gone. He had walked out of the neighborhood, across Como Avenue and into Speedy market probably looking for candy.

He did this one more time (always when the whole family was doing something together) and I bought him an ID bracelet. That ended it.

He is congenial, hard working, sublimely handsome and thoughtful. He's definitely a caretaker. And he does a chicken walk that brings up the guffaw in me.

Happy birthday, baby boy.