Today is the birthday of my son Carl. He’s three. He’s one of the big boys now.

He has developed a great sense of humor; the other day we’re reading some books sitting in the couch and he suddenly curled up and said “I so so teeeerrible sad” and looked away. I of course asked him what was wrong and he just started to giggle and turned around to face me again and to show me that he had taken two pacifiers in his mount. “I’m double sad” he said smiling from ear to ear. That, of course, could only be cured by 10 minutes of intents tickling.

Oh, and he laughs at my jokes as well. I’ve been waiting quite a few years for a fresh audience.

Dad, when I grow up I’m gonna get me a pair of roller skates and a beer.

That’s great. He’s only 2½ years old but at least he knows what he’s gonna do when he grows up.

Two years ago my son was born. It is really hard to fathom that it’s been two years already. He’s grown from the smallest thing to a full-grown boy with a (very) strong appetite for life.
He clever, funny, extremely fast learner, but I guess that all parents say that about their children. I just know that in the case of Carl is all true.

I can’t remember who said that having kids is just like having drunken midgets running around your house. I couldn’t agree more.

Happy birthday son.

This is my newborn son. He’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever meet and I’ve only known him for 23 hours.