Ripe Old 23

Everett's birthday is today.
I've been flipping through the journal of the year of his birth, looking for something of interest to post here.
One of the things I wrote was when he was just a couple days old and, eight weeks premature, still in the neonatal intensive care unit at the University of Alberta hospital.
When babes are so tiny — actually he wasn't that tiny at 4 lb 2 oz — breastfeeding can take more out of them energywise than it puts in, and so moms pump their milk and the babes are tube-fed so as not to burn up calories when the infants so desperately need to put on weight.
Of course, the best thing is to get the baby on the breast a.s.a.p., so you always try a bit of that before they are tube-fed.
I had written that Everett had no problem latching on, that he seemed to enjoy being held and snuggled, and that most of all he liked it when I sang to him.
I had to laugh at this, because of all the "goofy" things I do that irritate him since he was in his teens, my "singing" is perhaps the worst, in his estimation now.

Everett prepares to give out Halloween candy