I don't remember a birthday since his middle-school days where he didn't have a game, wasn't in rehearsals, or in performance. This year is no exception. He is in rehearsals for a play that opens on the twenty-seventh which was the 1982 circled "due date." Weird, that.
It doesn't, "seem like only yesterday" nor does it feel like twenty-nine years. Some days he's telling me a tale of one his many adventures, donning voices, making the telling an adventure onto itself. And somewhere in there, he'll make a gesture, fix an expression on his face, or affect a particular dialect and I'm transported back to that little boy with light in his eyes and chocolate on his face, fingers, and of course his shirt.
The light is still there as is the love of chocolate, though he is neater.
To my number one son, may twenty-nine be the best one yet and a gateway to bigger roles, paydays, whatever your heart desires and many more adventures.