There was something in my life Sunday that wasn't Saturday -- a 4-year-old.

It was Eldest's birthday Sunday, and he is now 4. It's been four years since he was born, a day I remember so vividly, from what I was wearing, what I had for breakfast, and oh yeah, that we had a baby that day. I've been a father now for four years.

Shock and memories aside, Eldest had a good weekend. We invited some of his friends to a tubing hill in Park City on Saturday for his party. I was nervous about the party, because it did snow the night before and the storm hadn't quite cleared out completely, and because it was going to be eight 4-year-olds on a mountain. The weather cooperated, and the party couldn't have worked out better. A few other parents went tubing too and helped, and except for two kids who didn't want to slide down more than a couple times, no problems on the hill. Even those two had fun when we sang Happy Birthday to Eldest, who had so much fun and was so happy his friends came to his birthday party.

Only glitches -- Littlest was too small to go tubing yet wanted to and threw a couple minor fits, and in the warming tent, another gathering was taking place that was attended by Santa! As soon as he walked in, I looked at wife and said "We're never going to top that." Someone from the other party came over and said our kids could visit Santa, too, but Eldest didn't want to. I'm not sure if he was afraid or unwilling because it was his party, he wasn't going to be upstaged by some guy in a ridiculous red suit.

Sunday was much lower key after the busy Saturday, which was fine: Eldest got to play with his new toys, eat mostly whatever he wanted to, and revel in being 4. It was his best birthday weekend ever.


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