col.jpg Today my dearest Colin turns 30. Thir-tee. That seems like such an adult age. I remember being a little girl and thinking Tammy, my 18-year-old babysitter, was ancient. And 30? I couldn't even comprehend what that must be like: adult diapers and funny mustaches and smoking pipes maybe. And endless adult conversation that was soooooo boring. (Can I be excused PULLL-eeeaase!)

But now it's here for Colin. And waking up this morning, he looked the same... sounded the same... acted the same. I don't know what I was expecting -- a suddenly bookish look complete with silver hair and reading glasses? Maybe him to step outside onto the front porch and yell: "GET OFF MY LAWN YOU WHIPPER SNAPPERS!!" (I think at 30 years old you can start using words like "whipper-snapper" and "kiddo" and "champ" and "sonny".)

I dunno. (He does have a funny mustache, so maybe I'm on to something there...)

But I asked him if he felt any different. He said that he did for once. A little more like a grown up. So maybe there is a little something that comes with exiting your 20s. (I'll know soon enough.) A little badge for your psyche that says: I am 30 and I am an adult. (Back off sonny!)

But really... nothing has changed. He was still up at the crack of dawn. Still late for work this morning. Still told me some story about how the industrial age has transformed how we view older people. Still the same Colin. Just with a new invisible badge (and maybe a pair of reading glasses I will go out and get today.) :)

I love you Colin. Happy birthday.