As soon as your birthday has come and gone (as mine has now done for 2012), everyone and their third step-cousin asks if you “got anything good”. The answer is, yes, yes I did get something good.
I would make you guess, but the old, “is it bigger than a breadbox, smaller than a tricked-out recreational vehicle” question won’t get you anywhere. Because the best birthday gift ever isn’t material. Oh, sure, the Puddinette gave me leave to purchase myself some new hockey equipment—which is good because my helmet is so nasty your average first-millennial unwashed barbarian heathen wouldn’t touch it. And one of my leg pads is split half-way up the knee (likely from ten or twenty too many violent landings on it). So, yes, the new hockey gear will be very much appreciated!
I also got a pan of brownies hand-decorated by my offspring, which I would totally include a picture of if it still existed in a material sense. But sadly, they’ve been consumed already. They are now back to being metaphysical brownies.
Still…still! The best birthday present EVAH is something the Puddinette wrote for me, to show all the world*.
Yes, that’s right, my wife wrote me a birthday haiku:
I tried to write you
A special birthday haiku
“Happy Day” will do.
Ladies and gentlemen, I have the awesomest wife in the history of wives. I’m totally just not worthy.
It’s okay to be jealous. Tell you what, next time I’ll share my brownies.
That’ll soften the blow a bit, right?
*And by “world”, obviously I mean she posted it on facebook