A two-year-old Elder Daughter (then Only Daughter) checks out her shadow.
Today is Elder Daughter’s birthday.
Alas, I will not be with her to hoist an Adult Beverage with her and drink her health, or to snarf down a chunk of birthday cake. We can blame geography for that: I’m here in Atlanta, and she’s in Washington D.C., 650 miles away. But next week, the Mistress of Sarcasm and I will pay her a visit, and so I will get a chance to extend my greetings in person then.
She’s an amazing young woman, our Elder Daughter, able to juggle a busy professional life with a boatload of side projects and interests. She has lived overseas and traveled to parts of the planet I am never likely to see. She can dance up a storm and can sing with a Broadway-caliber voice. She is creative, intelligent, funny. And she is easy on the eye.
Elder Daughter, traveling companion: at the Imperial Palace in Tokyo.
If I sound like a proud and happy daddy, I am. Happy birthday, Elder Daughter!
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