You were six days late and had already made me wrong for the first of many times that would lie ahead: I thought you would be early. Instead, your Dad and I checked in to the hospital at 10PM on December 9th, 2003 to be induced – to uproot you from your snug little home, which knowing you now, I realize must have been very against your will. You like to stay put. You like to be home and cozy. When you did finally arrive, the first thing you saw was me. Our eyes locked at minute one and our hearts at minute two. And ever since, even on the days you make me question my fitness for this job, on the days you sit on my very last nerve, I would throw myself in front of a semi for you. I would give you the last of my chocolate bar. The cherry on my sundae. For you, my kind and smart and witty Reese, I would do anything, for it is you who captured me first. First and always. Happy birthday, baby.