This morning, at 6:30 a.m., I sat down and had a nice little breakfast with my son before we headed off to work and school. John, who has crowned himself the "Hot-breakfast Dad," had made a healthy bowl of oatmeal for each of us.
From the kitchen he asked our son, "Guess what holiday we're celebrating today?"
"The sinking of the Titanic?" replied the eighth-grader.
"Close," said the Hot-breakfast Dad.
"It's your mom's birthday."
Nice. Real nice.
