Yesterday my stepson Brant turned 40. I have to pause for a moment and reread that so that it sinks in a bit. 40? How can the kid that was Hannah’s age when I met him now be a 40 year old man? A husband and father and provider?
And yet, he is 40 and that means that for the next two months, until my birthday, he and I are only 8 years apart in age. That’s something we all just accept now but in the beginning it was a little weird as we adjusted to our new little family. And thinking about it yesterday reminded me of a funny story from 18 years ago.
Dale and I, along with Brant, Jessica, Luke and Hannah are hanging out on Dale’s back porch. We are chatting and having a snack and, since it was the early stages of our relationship, just generally getting to know each other. Dale says something to me, I can’t remember what it was exactly but it was a little bossy, and I turn to him and say, “hey, don’t talk to me like I’m one of the kids.” And then, without missing a beat, Brant says, “well . . . just about.” There was the briefest of pauses and then we all just started cracking up. And we still crack up every time we repeat the story.
So even though I’m a day late, Happy Birthday, Brant! And here’s to many, many more!