My son was born late in the evening one Wednesday in a city far, far away. A few minutes later, the obstetrician delivered another baby. Afterwards, holding our newborns, that mother and I chatted. The gal said that in years to come she planned to celebrate her daughter’s birthday as if she’d been born after midnight, on Thursday, so that the world would celebrate with her. Because Thursday was May 5: Cinco de Mayo. And that was a day for fiestas, unlike plain old Wednesday.
But celebrations have a way of turning up in unexpected ways. Today and every year I shout to my Star Wars lovin’ kid: May the Fourth be with you!
Happy birthday, Mark!