At dinner tonight, hours before Griffin’s 6th birthday, Sarah inaugurated the event by telling Griffin the story of his birth. (If you need a refresher, see one of our earliest posts on this blog: Birth Story.) It began with us simply reminiscing about what we were up to six years ago: watching Watchmen at the Grand Lake, wondering how the incredibly loud soundtrack would affect the as yet unnamed baby, hoping it might encourage him to come out. Sarah so uncomfortable at bedtime that she needed the bedroom to herself. Me reading A Midwife’s Tale on the couch. Both of us eager to meet Griffin.

As I listened to her retelling the story, I felt like I had slipped into the movie version of our lives. Of course it was real life, so there were plenty of un-cinematic interruptions, but fundamentally Griffin was mesmerized, and the whole experience felt exactly right. He asked questions, filled in details that he remembered from past conversations, and wanted to hear the story to the very end. He laughed in disbelief when I described seeing his crowning head, and then how he refused to proceed any further for hours.

When Sarah wrapped up, Maggie demanded, “Mama tell MY story!” Sarah told her she’d just have to wait for her birthday.