Because a certain someone is embarrassed by birthday related attention, some restrictions were placed on this blog post.
Instead I have chosen to write about the 23th anniversary of the 9th day of my own life. I was just a super chunky baby with cheeks to my shoulders and a ridiculous amount of hair on my head. I probably slept through almost the entire day and I may have even spit up a couple of times. But I'm fairly certain that I didn't cry at all that day. At some point in the afternoon my little baby heart skipped a tiny beat, and I like to think that somehow I just knew. I just knew that my favorite person, my best friend and my greatest love was born that day.
Happy 9th Day of my life, Derek. Thanks for making it and so many since a really great day.
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