If you’ve noticed that I’m taking things a little easy this week, you’re right; I decided to celebrate today’s anniversary of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871.
Nah, just kidding: it’s my birthday today.
Birthdays as a dad are a bit anticlimactic. Working Mom made me carrot cake on Sunday (note to Europeans: it’s actually pretty good), and I’ve gotten some nice presents, but the day seemed a bit of an afterthought… until this conversation I had with Boo on the way to pick up my mom at the airport.
We were listening to Radio Disney (don’t laugh) and I said, “You know, sometimes I wish I were a pop singer.”
Boobaby thought for a second before responding: “I’m a pop singer. I know lots of songs.” Then she started singing a ditty that I pray is of her own invention:
“Ah, ah, ah, and she crawled up my shoe!
Up my shoooooooe!
Open your shoe and let him in!
She crawled up… Are we here?”
We weren’t here, as it turns out, so we spent the rest of the ride doing a duet to “She Crawled Up My Shoe,” a soon-to-be released Ashley Tisdale single.
I know, you had to be there: like every authentic “happening” in life, trying to explain it flattens it out of existence.
Suffice it to say: I had a moment of dadness today, and it was the best birthday present ever. (Until I hear whatever wackiness she comes up with next year, of course!)