January 6, 2010
Life is funny, right? Like, how does it work that my kids get older and I get younger? Yes, I’m cute but totally fucking delusional.
My middle son turned 22-years-old a few days ago (and I’m only 26… see? Weird, right?) and we wanted to totally embarrass him on his special day. How do you do that? You take him out to Montana’s restaurant! The employees like to sing to you and clap their hands and this? is something 22-year-olds hate. But? He got a free cookie. So, worth it.
Below, son is smiling but dying inside. The middle kid is my youngest son – yes, his hair is LONG. He’s a future rock star. And the girl on the end, is my 9-year-old daughter, who thinks she’s 23. Missing, is my oldest son. He’s busy being a grown-up(ish).
It was a nice dinner… and I think the waiter wanted to hang with us. I mean, yeah, of course, because we brings the awesome, but dude, get some friends.
Son loves having his photo taken. Evident.
Didn’t get drunk at Montanas (although photo evidence shows otherwise). May or may not have gotten drunk at a party the night before. He admits to nothing.
He said he’s gonna rock 22. I rocked 22 when I was 22… just four years ago. *cough*
Damn straight, my kids know how to bring da cheese. They learned it from the master:
We gifted son with iTunes card, an American Express card and a grocery store card. All as good as cash, and that makes son happysauce.
Note: Giving your kids what they want will ensure they will not put you in a home years down the road. I’m always thinking ahead. Just sayin’.