We are glad he was born

The husband had a birthday. He is a whopping FIVE and one half years younger than his wife (me) which he generally only mentions when he wants to think about how cool he would have thought he was if, in eight grade, he had known he would someday be married to a girl who was currently a freshman. In COLLEGE. He thinks that is funny. I think it is a little disturbing.

Anyway, we made a chocolate cake (from the Pioneer Woman, and boy, it is GOOD) and the husband has enjoyed a single piece and I have enjoyed approximately EIGHT pieces.

For his special day, he bought himself a Glock. I started laughing because for his special day I had bought him a book about the history of the Glock. So, if you try to break into my house, the husband will be more than happy to try out his Glock. I am more likely to use the book ABOUT the Glock to knock you on your head really hard. Then, while we are waiting for the police to arrive (with their Glocks) I will force you to listen to the story of "America's gun." And maybe some conservative talk radio.

We also bought him a book Bear Grylls wrote for his sons (whose names are, and you will enjoy this: Jesse, Marmaduke, and Huckleberry. Yep.) and maybe I will not hit you on the head with that one because it is very small and would only make a tiny bruise.

The husband also bought a Mont Blanc pen with the very generous donation the Grandparents Pate always provide on our birthdays. I don't know if it would do much damage if we used it on a burglar. I guess if it were a fastidious type of burglar we could threaten him with a large ink stain on his shirt. And it is a fountain pen, which is fairly pointy.

The take home is don't mess with us. We have guns and also books and pens.

Happy birthday, dearly beloved. You are longsuffering with your lady. And tender and hilarious and patient with those three kids. Also, you are good at the air guitar.