43

“Daddy, are you going to be taller tomorrow,” asked Charlotte, my 6-year-old, last night as I was tucking her into bed. “No,” I laughed, “just a little older.” “Well,” she continued, “I put something very special for you under your pillow for the holiday.” “It’s not a holiday,” I smiled, “it’s just my birthday.” Charlotte looked back up at me with her big, luminous brown eyes and corrected me. “It’s a holiday to me!”

Under my pillow were two hand-drawn birthday cards from Charlotte and her little brother Oliver, rife with smiley faces. Nothing like having two adoring little kids to take the visceral sting out of turning 43.