James, my first born son and apple of my eye, is five years old today.
I remember that January day in 2002 when Taryn called me from the hospital. She told me to get my butt down there because after days and days of false alarms and anticipation, they were probably going in to get him out. I was home preparing to watch "The Greatest Show on Turf". Kurt Warner and the Rams were taking on my Packers in the NFL playoffs. Instead, I threw on my lucky Leafs hat and hit the road to become a father.
Five seems awfully old. What's next, six? I'm a lucky SOB because somehow James has become the sweetest, happiest soul on the planet. He's now learning to read, interested in playing tee ball this spring, enjoying Star Wars, Batman, Spider-man and he's an exceptional older brother to boot.
Happy fifth birthday, son! Here's a review of your first five years.
