Dear Vincent,

Happy Birthday! No matter what anyone else calls it, I will always celebrate September 11 as the day I held my baby boy in my arms for the first time. Whenever anyone asks, "Do you remember what you were doing when the towers fell?" I say, "Of course I do. I was taking chocolate cupcakes to my son's class for his birthday."



Happy Birthday! Even your sister admits you were one cute little boy.

This year has been an amazing one. This is the year you became realio, trulio, no tippy-toeing, taller than your mother, and started wearing shoes bigger than your father's.

This is the year you became a Star scout and were awarded the Order of the Arrow in Boy Scouts. This is the year you aced the state's standardized tests in science AND math AND reading. (Way to go! Handsome and brilliant.)

This is the year I stopped calling you Vincie (although I still think it sometimes.) I will always love you -- no matter what -- but thank you for making it so easy.

Happy birthday! I hope you always fly through life like you've flown these first 14 years.

And may you never lose your sense of humor.

Love, Mom

P.S. If all this mush embarasses you, just be thankful I didn't use the photograph of you in the firehat.