This is Andy. He turned 37 today, as of about 1 p.m. Chicago time. I've twigged him mercilessly over the years for having taken 54 hours to arrive, and ensure that my entrance to motherhood was morphine-addled. But I am so very, very glad he arrived.
He is extremely intelligent. He's witty and funny (there's a difference, but he's mastered both.) He's musically talented, he's a writer, a poet, an actor with massive comedic chops.
He's kind. He's gentle. He's learned to be patient. He's going to be the kind of wonderful father that Bob was to him.
He's gifted us with heartbreak, laughter, joy, frustration, anger, sorrow, happiness, delight, and love. So much love. I am so lucky that he entered my world. I love you, Andy. Happy Birthday, and may the coming year be magnificent for you.
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