Yesterday, as we were driving home from our son's little birthday party, I asked K how old he was again. He looked at me strangely and said he was 33. I told him I kind of knew that but every so often I have to stop and think about how old each of us are. After I turned 25, I stopped keeping such arduous track. I love my birthday and have no problem getting older, but I think sometimes I think of us as the ages we were when we first met. I was 25 and he was 27. And now we are 31 and 33 and we will have a two year old son tomorrow.