Two decades ago you were born. You spent the first night in the NICU because your lungs were a little damp from your quick entrance into the world. I think that is the last time you hurried.
Andrea sent me Kenny Loggins Return to Pooh Corner and when sister napped we would dance around the house. I mean I did most of the leading since you weighed about as much as a rotisserie chicken.
You mainly were a great audience to our shenanigans and when you finally walked, you came up with your own. Like the time Pop replaced the broken 10.5 x 13 window pane in our French door and you took the opportunity to squeeze through the opening and explore the back yard.
Your heroes have always been cowboys even when you insisted on wearing your hat backwards at the XIT Rodeo in the Panhandle. How you have grown into the cowboy hat connoisseur placing yours perfectly upside down to protect the brim when not in use.
A happy little fellow you were and still are. I could speak of all the ways you were ridiculously easy to raise or your hustle in the classroom or your incredible wit or writing. But I will leave it with just how grateful I am that God entrusted me with the unmerited gift of you twenty years ago.
Despite my myriad of maternal imperfections, I truly could not love you any more than I do John Craig Henson, Jr. Happy Birthday to you.