Happy Birthday, Emmanuel!

When you're a senile 23 year old and you think that your unofficial son's birthday is January 26th but it's actually January 25th, it's a good thing you have cool kids like Argusto and Alex and Degraff to call and remind you.


On Sunday, the 25th, I stuck post-it notes on my door, my mirror and my computer saying, "CALL EMMANUEL" so that I would remember to call him on the next day, his birthday. That night, I was tired from taking care of tetanus baby, so I was already in bed when my phone rang with the secret code that meant it must be the HFC boys. I called them back and heard Argusto yell something. Instantly, a raccous chorus of "Happy Birthday to you" came bellowing into the phone.

Shoot.

The song ended. Argusto laughed into the phone, "You hadn't called to tell Manno happy birthday yet, so I figured I'd better call and remind you."

I love that. I love the fact that even though those boys are upset that I am not living with them anymore, even though they are suspicious that I have other kids that I love more than them, they refused to let me miss Emmanuel's birthday. I love the fact that they know me well enough to know I wouldn't want to miss it for anything and that they care enough about him to assure that he got to talk with me on his special day. They're great kids.