Happy Birthday to the Baby MR. Smartypockets, all of a whopping 29 tomorrow. He had a rough Saturn return and he’s been supporting this broken stripper for 5 years now, even. What more could you want in a boy? And yet there is so much more about him to love, most of it too embarrassing for both of us to mention. But a couple of things I like best: that we both turn into sullen bratty know-it-all 14 year olds when we fight. Complete with extra drama. And yet somehow we’ve shaved down the start to finish fight time down to something manageable with all the practice we’ve had in the last year. He is also an awesome kisser, even if our first kiss was my fault for being overaggressive. But its hard to wait for someone else to make the first move when you’re married to his roommate. Besides our fabulous infidelity, I also love waking up to hear his sleeping noises, except when I don’t want to get up either and some child is asking me for breakfast, which I admit is often. But still, I love him sleeping, I love him yelling too loud at the football game, I love him wearing training pants on his head when he folds laundry, or when he invents a new kind of pirate while they play on the floor. I love trying to think of what he might like for dinner that he didn’t have the night before and I love it when he puts away the laundry and cleans off my dresser without even suggesting that I ought to be doing it more often. I love laughing with him at Penny Arcade comics, watching his blood vessels bulge when he gets beat in a video game, and realizing when we’re both watching the same girl. But best of all, I love holding him and knowing we are both so codependantly in love with each other that neither of us would ever rather be anytwhere else. Maybe I’m naive and life will bring us big changes, but even though we’re always on the lookout for the end of the honeymoon, I’ve stopped believing it will ever happen. Here’s to 30 years to come of watching our girls grow up to kick our asses at cool and surviving it together.