My poor son, Finn. Everybody thinks he’s saying “Ben” when he tells them his name. So now we just automatically say, “Finn, as in Huckleberry”. I’m sure there are probably people that still don’t get it but at least they won’t admit that they’re clueless.
It was his birthday last week. I didn’t do one of those cute posts showing him as a baby because, as usual, I spent the entire day doing birthday stuff. Like buying all of his presents. And making his cake (red velvet. And it was superb, if I do say so). And making schnitzel since that’s what he wanted for dinner. No time left for scanning pictures and other frivolities. So I kind of forgot to do an entire birthday post altogether. Poor child.
Bloggers write a kids’ birthday posts like it’s to the child himself, but Finn has never read my blog, so let me tell you, Finn turned 12. He is my shyest child (and that’s saying something because five of my six children are all terrified to talk to other people. York is the exception.) Finn is more of a thinker and on the tender-hearted side. And like all introverts he loves to read. He’s also the athletic child in the family–the single person who has inherited Mister’s sweet hand/eye coordination.
Finn has hit adolescence early. He’s one of the tallest kids in 6th grade and had to shave his grody peach-fuzz mustache last month because he was starting to look a swarthy mechanic (strange, considering he is my fairest child. He was blond once upon a time). His voice is doing that funny Peter Brady thing where it changes mid-sentence. Or when he yells. We try not to laugh but it’s kind of funny.
Happy Birthday Finn! We love you!
(Even if I did find 17 dirty socks, 2 shirts and a pair of shorts shoved in between his mattress and the wall.)
P.S. If you want to know what he looked like when he was little just find a picture of Jasper on this blog. They are identical.)