Happy birthday to the man…
- of the hour
- I’m married to
- of my dreams
- who puts up with me day after day
- who proposed to me 29 years ago and married me 28 years ago
- who is the best father my boys could have
- who I’m glad to grow old with
- who spoils me
- I love…still…after all this time
- who looks at me with awestruck eyes
- who loves me…still…after living with me for nearly three decades
Okay, the man’s a saint! I admit it. I’m the one who calls him “Mr. Wonderful” after all.
Back in 1982 when two cute seniors flirted with me the day before school started, I never would have imagined one of them would be my husband. And it wasn’t the one I dated first, either.
This is a man who stood beside me through the births of two sons (well, there were those few moments he was nearly passing out, but I hardly remember that).
This is the man who taught our sons to shoot hoops, ride a bike and drive a car.
Yes, he’s an amazing father. My boys are blessed.
He spoils me with great trips
And I let him spoil himself with Mustang convertibles
He has a sense of adventure that parallels mine
Not to mention a sense of humor
And didn’t he help me make handsome children?
Now we’re blessed with daughters, and our family is complete.
Happy birthday, Mr. Wonderful. I’m glad you let me talk you into dating me and then trick you into marrying me. I hope I make you half as happy as you’ve made me.
Here’s to another 50-some years, right?