Happy 2nd birthday. Thanks for your birthday greetings.

It’s my birthday! My friend George suggested we simply drop the decades, so it’s my 2nd birthday. We can light candles on a cake without engaging the local fire department. Remove the decades part of my birthday and it’s one of those Golden Birthdays: I’m two on the 22nd day of the 2nd month. It’s all two’s.

George is quite foxy when it comes to Math.

The stores have lots of cards for two-year-olds which marvel at how much taller, stronger, and smarter the birthday boy has grown. Have you seen any cards recently for especially for 72-year-olds? The cards friends give us older boys poke fun at how many artificial teeth we have, the metal medical devices implanted or how much more often we pass gas. At two I might get a marvelous Tonka truck, count in the decades and I’ll probably get a medication/pill organizer. Count the decades and people figure I can buy my own damn truck!

So before I spend the day with my son and later have dinner at a good friend’s house watching the glorious, glittery party, with wonderfully dressed, beautiful women, that Hollywood is throwing for me this evening, the Oscars, George and I begin celebrating my birthday 2 quietly! (We remember, smugly, that I was alive before 95% of tonight’s glitterati were born!)

I declined the Oscar Committee’s invitation because my Tux fits a bit too tight around the waist.

Happy Second Birthday, Ken!