TWENTY-ONE AND A HALF

In talking to my mom today, she half-jokingly wished me a happy half-birthday, something my parents have done for as long as I can remember, in a sweet attempt to make up for my true birth date, often neglected by even the most loving of relatives. As this date was often coupled with presents of water guns, badminton sets, and gift cards to the mall, not to mention half a cake, when I was a kid this practice couldn't be cooler (TWO birthdays?!). But now, halfway through the Best Year of My Life, this reminder isn't quite as exciting. Plus I don't even like cake anymore.