And I miss everyone, but most of all the children and their shiny toy guns

Yesterday was my youngest's birthday. He turned five. For most people, September 11 is a day of tragedy, but to me it just marks the day that one of the best things to happen to me actually happened.

I called yesterday morning to wish him a happy birthday. My ex-wife answered the phone and I talked to her for a few minutes before he got on the phone.

Me: Did you get the presents I sent? There were two packages.
Her: Yeah, but he hasn't opened them yet. What did you get him?
Me: One is a toy gun that makes a bunch of different sounds. The other is a sword that does the same thing, but lights up with different colors too.
Her: Oh good. He's been going around telling everyone he was getting a gun for his birthday, but we didn't get him one.
Me: I always feel like I get him the same thing, but I honestly didn't see anything else I thought he'd like, so I went with the toy weapons again.
Her: Well I'm glad you did. He'll be happy with those.
Me: What did you get him?
Her: We got him a little desk.

Oh yeah, I'm the cool parent!

She also told me that the other day he asked how many more times the sun would go down before he turned five. Then, yesterday morning when she told him he was five he went and looked at himself in the mirror to see if he'd grown any. As if it would somehow happen overnight. Knowing this, I asked him about it once he got on the phone.

Me: Happy Birthday. Are you excited to open your presents.
Him: Yeah. I have to wait until [Step-Dad] gets home.
Me: So how does it feel to be five? Are you bigger? Stronger? Faster?
Him: Dad, I'm just five.

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By that logic, I'm not getting fat, I'm just thirty-two.