At the “Welcome Home Masons” celebration Sunday (i.e. Mom, Dad, Jack and I + a plate of cookies + two balloons), Jack declared “This is the best birthday ever!”
I can see his point. Based on this sole experience, birthdays mean presents, sweets, and a lot of adult attention regardless of whether it’s his birthday or his brother’s.
Sam gets a blanket, Jack gets a Transformer. Sam gets a set of onesies, Jack gets a Transformer. Sam gets a rattle, Jack gets a Transformer. Why shouldn’t Jack think sibling birthdays are the best? He definitely won in the good present category. I’m curious to see what he thinks of it a year from now when there’s no matching present for him each time Baby Brother gets a package.
Then again, knowing these grandparents, this double-spoilage may continue for a while. Neither set seems inclined to give up an excuse to buy things for the grandchildren. In fact, it seems to be something that continues even into one’s thirties, for my parents arrived Friday night with a present for me as well.
Rachel gets a baby, Manda gets a taser:
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With a bonus torso poster for practicing!
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15-feet throw, baby!
As if the gift of safety isn’t good enough, it came in my favorite kind of packaging:
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Ironic packaging!
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| Peace, Health, and Happiness indeed! |
Master Class 
While a taser may be an effective weapon against an intruder or evil-doer, I must make the case that instilling fear in the heart of such individuals and warring them off from one's residence is best achieved through the use of one's Guido. The ominous mustache alone inspires fear in the most brazen of criminals and the occasional mob of gypsy children!
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