Happy Birthday, Andrew

After several attempts to write you a birthday letter, I am still facing a blank screen. Why am I struggling with this?

Is it because I am exhausted, with a sore back and allergy eyes and would rather be in bed?

Or because all I can think about is making Quinn’s lunch and getting him ready for camp?

Or because I can hear the boys in the great room fighting over what kid’s show they watch? Whose idea was it to have them five years apart? Oh. Yah. Right. Sorry.

But maybe I’d rather be in bed because that is where you are.

You are my favourite place in the entire world.
You are my favourite everything.

Happy Birthday, Bun.