Oh the Money We Would Save.

I wish you understood money, Remi Hope. Then you would understand how much more of it we would have if we didn't have you.

We would be able to eat out alllllll the time. Wherever we wanted. Whenever we wanted. And we would eat things like prime rib and filet mignon and not things like chicken nuggets and sweet potato fries.

Of course we would sit in boring restaurants with stuffy people who would never color on their menus or split sushi with their momma. And the room would be dimly lit and have soft music playing, instead of being neon and loud with a teenager dressed up as a Mouse running around. And you wouldn't be there laughing hysterically or going to the bathroom every twelve minutes. So what fun would that be?

We would also go on vacations. Long, relaxing vacations. Where there were palm trees and hammocks and a young man named Armand who would continue to refill our drinks without us having to ask.

Of course we would never experience a car ride with a three year old, listen to Snow White fifty three times in a row and listen to you beg us to stop at every Cracker Barrel you see just so you can eat gravy. And we would never have to spray Spf 50 on little backs and necks or watch you stare in amazement at the beach. And though we wouldn't have to pack like we were joining the circus on a 50 city tour - we also wouldn't watch you play in the sand with your brother like he was your very best friend. So what fun would that be?

Sure we might live in a bigger house, or drive a nicer car.

But then we would never know the joys of being able to hear you whisper to your brother each night, "I love you, brudder" or each morning, "Get up! They can't hear us!" And who wants to drive a luxury car when you could drive a four door sedan with fries in the cushions and bloody napkins stuffed in car seats? Where's the fun in that?

And so today as I get ready to celebrate you turning four years old I think about all the ways my life might be different were you not in it. And it seems no fun at all. So someday when you read this I want you to know - you are a lot of fun.

You are also a lot of trouble...

a lot of anxiety...

and a lot of stress.

But a whole lot of fun.

Someone once told me that every age was their favorite. They couldn't decide which age they liked best. I wanted to ball up my fist and hit them in the nose because three? Yeah, I hated three. Hated it. Loathed it. Wouldn't have offered it up to my worst enemy.

But I love you. And that's what matters I suppose. That, and the fact that there aren't enough filet mignons, Volvo's or Armando's to fill up my heart the way you do. And though some days I would like to test that theory for sure, I know it isn't true.

I love you, Remi Hope. Happy Birthday. And may your fourth year on earth be lots more behaved than this last one. Mmmmmkay?