You are now as tall as your mother. Which is not saying all that much.
And creating monsters. What a lovely couple. No wonder that damn dog tries to take each of his meals at the table.
Last year, the Matron wrote a really good blog post for your birthday that was actually, well, all about HER.
But this one's for you, babe. You're smart. Funny. One of a kind.
Tonight, there are 9 thirteen and fourteen year old boys bumping about in the third floor family room, in tribute to your birth. The Matron can hear them as she types. Bump, bump.
Matron to John: "I'm so impressed with Stryker's friends! They're so responsible."
John: "No they're not. They're completely stupid. They're 100% aligned to make the worst choice possible and not have a clue about what they're doing."
Guess which one of them will stay awake until the wee hours, listening. Thanks, honey.
Stryker? Happy birthday, sweetheart. She's awfully glad you're hers.