He is made up of Binary and Art and Electrons.
Poppets and Brains and Legos
Dead Languages, Dead Poets and Light.
Not surprisingly he is exactly where he is supposed to be but not where others think he is.
It's OK, as long as one or two of us can find him.
You have to be careful when you look right at him if he's not working at being there.
I know that in the annals of parenting I am supposed to be distressed at the passage of time but I find quite the opposite - it is a pleasure to get to know each other as we each grow older year by year.
Here's to the new year of Poppets and sawdust and variable physics and so the counting continues . . . .
He can't see this - mostly- he probably won't unless someone tells him, but Happy Birthday Co-Conspirator.