It’s weird to think of Paps as 60. In my mind, he’s perpetually 40 and I’ve caught myself saying that when asked which always leads to weird looks and the inevitable, “Your father was 11 when he had you…?”
No. He wasn’t. I’m just an idiot.
BUT, I am a lucky idiot because for the past 29 years — this guy has been there for me.
Happy birthday, Paps. I wish I was there to celebrate with you but I promise Red Velvet Cake and G&Ts next time we see each other.
I love you.
Your dark-skinned, foul-mouthed eldest kid. You know, the one who doesn’t like anything.