Birthdays as a 37-year-old father of five are a bit different than when I was younger and childless. I slept in until 8 AM this morning, then joined my wife in taking all five kids to the dentist down in Rockford, Illinois. Then we took the whole crew to Sapora Playworld, a human habitrail for the under-five-foot set. Imagine ten McDonald’s playlands stuck together and on top of each other, and you have a good image. I spent a couple hours crawling around in these, chasing after our three-year-olds, ably assisted by our six-year-old. We broke for lunch but went right back at it again.
After an easy afternoon, Ann and I are off for a dinner out and then a play at the New Court Theatre. I’m told I can pick up the Fireside Grill neon sign I won at the play. That should take us to the end of the day, with a good night’s sleep ahead.
As I said before, I don’t hate birthdays like many people I know. I want to keep having them as long as possible. The alternative seems far worse.
