About a week ago my oldest son decided he was finished being seven. So he hauled off & had a birthday. Now, I know what you're thinking. Here I go again with my boring sentimental ramblings that are the cyber equivalent of some stranger in a grocery check out line whipping out their purse to immerse you in countless faded dog eared pics of their offspring sporting terribly dated hair & duds who now reside in north Toledo. Guilty as charged Your Honor.
However, in my defense I must throw myself at the mercy of the court because we're now staring nine years of age in the face folks which is difficult for a guy/dad like me to process. Perhaps I'm experiencing a "quarter life crisis" as John Mayer sings about. Nope (sigh). I've already passed that benchmark come to think. Three eighths life crisis? I dunno. Fractions were never my friend in school. Bunny Trail commenced. Happy Birthday Caleb. Cherished are you.
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