Today is St. Patrick’s Day, a fact I completely forgot until I was standing outside the door to the daycare wondering why there were green footprints on the window.  I am sadly neglectful of the littler holidays, which is why I usually find out on 3 p.m. on Friday when I have a three-day weekend.  In addition to the green holiday, so far this year I’ve forgotten Groundhog Day, President’s Day, and Martin Luther King Day until I was reminded by innumerable Facebook status updates by those folk more on top of American culture.

I try not to think too much about what a disadvantage this puts my kids at, especially Annabel, who does not respond well to newness.  I left her dazed and bewildered amongst a sea of green this morning and I expect to come home to garbled stories about lepekons and green cookies.  Need I even tell you that she was dressed in red and blue, not green? Right.

So that’s St. Patrick’s Day.  Oh, except for one other thing.  March 17th is ALSO Bubba’s birthday.  You may remember* that Bubba is my father-in-law and his harassment was the reason behind beginning this blogging folly in the first place.  So it only seems fitting that I take a moment to wish him a very happy day, indeed, especially since we aren’t in Florida at his annual birthday shindig this year.

My own father passed away when I was 22, so Bubba is the only grandfather that my kids have.  I can tell you honestly that he excels at grandfathering, to the point that I’m kind of glad that he lives thousands of miles away, as if my kids lived nearby he would have them spoiled to within an inch of their lives.  So, even if he weren’t a delightful person, even if he hadn’t raised a really wonderful son, even if he didn’t buy me Cuban coffee each and every morning of our visits, I would love him for his grandfathering alone.

But, of course, I love him for all those other reasons, too.

So say it with me:

Happy Birthday, Bubba!

Annabel and her Pop (and a dumpster) way back in the day.

* A follow-up to that post: when I first put it up Bubba was very sweet about it and then I didn’t hear anything for weeks.  Weeks. Then one day, out of the blue, I got a message on my cell phone from Bubba.  There was a moment of silence and then: “I JUST FOUND OUT WHAT ‘PORTLY’ MEANS.” *click*

See what I mean? You gotta love him.

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