james

 There he is--first Christmas 1997.

 He used to be so little, and soooo cute.  Oh gosh, the girls and I doted on him terribly.  But we had to--he was so funny and adorable, a tiny little guy with the most fabulous gopher cheeks.

Jimmy, Jimmy.

One day the kids were painting in the dining room and I wanted to take his picture. He snarled at me and then snatched his paintbrush and smeared black all over his paper.

I recoiled and asked Kirsten, "What's wrong with him?"

She paused, and then said, "Well.  He has these little spells of badness."

Spells of badness.

I laughed. Probably we've all got those.

I've never really seen much badness in you, James.   You're nothing but patient and generous and kind.

Or maybe you just have a good act.

Nah, I don't think it's acting.  It's you.

Awww, here's one of you shorter than Kirsten.  That's been a while ago.

James, for all these fifteen years you have brought Dad and me nothing but happiness.   Thanks for being our kid.

And Happy Birthday, Jimmy.   You make the whole family better, and that's the truth.  love you forever, Mom and Dad