Happy birthday and HAPPY BIRTHDAY

My boy, my BIG son, my home-slice, partner in (well not crime but you get the drift) turned 12 today!

Cue fireworks, trumpets and bass drums!

My sons mum and I have around 15 million mutual friends on Facebook so she posted a status about how happy she is, her son is 12, and it’s crazy! Cool; was my immediate thought, but unlike 99.9% of my friends with children I didn’t feel like saying or doing any of that. Saying happy birthday to my son on Facebook seems strange to me, and I’m not taking anything away from anyone that does that with various people, but if he can’t see it then whose benefit does it serve. I guess I’m different/old/out of touch whatever, but taking him and his cousin, meeting up with several friends and going nuts on the skates I bought him in Hyde Park on a picture-perfect-sunny-day felt like a swell way to say happy birthday.

I don’t doubt that certain people may look at my profile and wonder why I haven’t said anything about such a wonderful event but I’m a fan of knowing that I don’t have to give the entire 'story'. I think that comes out in my fiction too. By saying a little and allowing the reader to imply the rest helps to build a better more individual picture for that particular person. Saying that, I shouldn’t let it creep too much into my actual daily life otherwise I’d walk around expecting everyone to ‘get it’ and not everyone does.

To my main man, born at 7.11am 12 years ago, got a phone call from me around that time this morning, and what was he doing? SLEEPING!