Every year I make gingerbread cookies for the children in my son's class, in honor of Ian's Christmastime birthday. He was born on December 23, 1994--one week before I turned thirty. I think of him as the last accomplishment of my twenties, and as usual, I was getting things done just before the deadline. :) Now Ian tells me that he'll always know how old I am, because he simply has to add thirty to his own age.
Here he is with his traditional breakfast present (and that's sparkling grape juice, at his request). We have the day all planned out. One of the pleasures of a near-Christmas birthday is that you're guaranteed you're never in school on your special day, not with a date this close to the holiday. And of course this year it falls on a Saturday, so that's not a problem.
Some people say they see a strong resemblance between us. Here's our decade photo: he was turning ten, and I was turning forty. I think I can see the mother/son resemblance a bit here (despite the blurred photo). In any case, though, even if we didn't look alike it wouldn't change the fact that we ARE alike. We're both Capricorns; I don't know if that has anything to do with our very similar natures, but my son and I tend to think alike. This has caused many an argument, since we tend to feel stubborn at the same time, but it also means that we see the world in the same way, and we laugh at the same things.
And here's the thing we have most in common: when asked what he might like for a birthday meal, Ian said wistfully: "Fudge."
That's how I know he wasn't switched with some other child at the hospital. :)