After 10, it just gets harder to blow out the candles.
Fourteen years ago, I was "going out with" a boy. We talked every night for long periods of time, which I'm sure annoyed my parents. I guess the bright side of that is since we didn't have call waiting, there weren't any phone calls for my dad to go to the store.
On March 13, 1991, my "boyfriend" called and it was probably the shortest phone call we ever had together. I had to tell him that there just wasn't time for us to talk because we were busy telling everyone else that there was an addition to our crazy family. On this particular day, Bret was born.
Fourteen years later, I'm still cutting phone calls short to celebrate Bret's birth. Bret, my roly-poly snuggaly-boo turned elbows-and-knees attitude-dude.
I'm not always the huggiest gal on the planet, but when I want one, I've always been able to count on Bret. Whenever I needed a hug, I could just holler "Nobody loves me!" and Bret would pause his game or stop what he was doing. He would come running from wherever he was in the house to pounce on me and wrap his arms around my neck to assure me that my statement wasn't true. Bret's hug was proof that even if nobody else did, he loved me.
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