The recalcitrant brother and I wanted to name the youngest in our family “Bubbles.” For some reason, even though the tie should obviously go to the cutest, we were not allowed to pick out the Butcher’s name, and instead, he got an enormous name that only Biblical scholars can spell right on the first try.
It’s funny. I have an easy enough time complaining about him when it’s warranted, but when I sit down to try to say nice things about him, it’s really hard for me. What can you say about a man who left his home so that you could follow your dream? Where do you even start?
I owe him, in part, for all of my success.
I love that guy.
Happy Birthday.
Tiny Cat Pants 