Two years ago, I was sitting in a hospital room crying because my little baby Bun, who everyone thought was pretty well cooked at almost 39 weeks, turned out to be a little closer to 36 weeks and underdone.
He was whisked away to the NICU immediately after birth and there he stayed with his trusty C-PAP machine, blowing air through his nose and into his lungs.
Thankfully, his lungs caught on pretty quick, and now he is the strappinest boy you ever did see.
(And yes, "strappinest" is a word.)
This year, my dear little Bun is still getting his bum handed to him by this nasty virus , so his birthday festivities have to be postponed until next weekend.
I know this slide-show is probably the equivalent of asking you to come and flip through our boring vacation photos with me, but I have to do it. It's a maternal imperative.
Happy Birthday, you little blonde Viking-boy. We love you more than you'll ever know.
Song credit: "Baby Mine," sung by Alison Krauss from the album "A Hundred Miles or More: A Collection"
PS: Bun is super lucky to share his birthday with one of our very favorite people on the planet - his dear Pop (my Dad). Happy Birthday to you too, Dad!