Today my twin boys, the dynamic dueling duo who go by the names Robert and David, turn the ripe old age of 14. Is it possible that it has been that long since the doctor sliced me open and pulled those critters out of me? In some ways, it seems like ages ago and, in other ways, it seems like last year.
Robert, golden-hearted boy that he is, asked to take cupcakes to school; 
David said the kids were dweebs and he wasn’t giving them anything. I tell you they couldn’t be more different if they tried, which perhaps they do.
Tonight, we are planning a noisy dinner at home (it is never quiet in my house) followed by cake and presents. When the boys see their presents, and after the technical aspect of everything is in place, I think they’ll be pleased. Due to what I feel is a ridiculous price point, we’ve been putting off this gift purchase for a while now but have finally caved. I’ll give you a hint, the number 3 is featured predominately in the title. Perhaps they’ll actually play together and even have fun. Maybe they won’t argue… I know, silly me, but a mom can dream can’t she?
So Happy Birthday to my boys who I love more than the moon and stars, my boys who have loved me in return. They have also squeezed just about every other emotion out of me as well but, in the end, they’re worth it. More than worth it.
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