I really should take more time writing this, to do it justice, I mean. I should be home searching through shoeboxes full of pictures, those taken before the digital revolution, so I could show a photographic timeline of him growing up--not necessarily to embarrass him, but you get the idea. I'd like to be doing these things, but I'm not.
He was supposed to get here earlier, but instead, he chose to wait. We entered the hospital a full 30 hours before April Fools Day began. I mean, when you're going into a hospital to deliver a baby and you get to basically choose your child's birthday, 6pm on a Thursday night is a good time to insure either the baby will be born either Thursday night, or anytime Friday.
The child had other plans.
We waited. We had the monitors going round the clock. My wife went through enough ice chips to fill an ice making machine. We waited some more. I guess it was the doctor threatening to do surgery to get the little guy out that made our first child decide enough was enough and he made the family of two a family of three. After 40 hours of labor, he made his entrance. Had he waited even another 15 minutes, things would have been different.
He came to us on Saturday, April 1 1995, during Final Four weekend and halfway through the first session of General Conference. And no offense to Nat The Fat Rat, our son was cuter.
Almost two decades have passed since that wonderful day. We won't have a party tonight...my daughter and I still have a show to do and we won't be home until late. We'll have a party for him, soon. He's not the kind of kid who feels slighted because of the wait. To the eyes of the world, he's now an adult, but for me, he's lots of things. He's been an "adult" for some time, but in some ways, he's still that adorable little present that changed our world forever. Happy birthday son! We love you! Have a wonderful day!