Today my firstborn in nineteen. Nineteen. And, he wasn't in his bed this morning so my husband and I could go bursting in his room to sing the happy birthday song to him. Instead, I wished him happy birthday on facebook. facebook. That's how I stalk my children. It's a well-known fact that I stalk my children on facebook, I've confessed here before. I did notice he had a status change when I stopped by there this morning... (and he was up until the wee hours of the morning...I hope he made it to class this morning)
We have this wacky tradition in our family that we (Johnny and I) tell our children their "birth story" on their birthday. They've heard it before, they groan when it starts, but it's our thing. So, I'm pondering this morning if I'll tell the college boy his birth story when I see him at dinner tonight. I mean, he's in college, for heaven's sake. And now he's nineteen. And, he's bringing a new friend. This thought should not be filling my head when I have retreat work to do but I have to ask myself, when do they outgrow the telling of the birth story? (when they were 5, you might be thinking -- go away!) Did you happen to see that episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" when Raymond could not function on his birthday because his mom didn't give him his "birth-minute kiss"? Wouldn't that be creepy if I'm still telling the birth story to my kids when they are adults with their own families?
To tell or not to tell....that's the question.
Serving the King,