16 Samshine Years? Happy birthday kiddo!

Sixteen? So soon? How can it be? The National Insurance number notification in his first official deathly dull brown enveloped letter from "the man" says it's true. That's no more child benefit binges on chocolate buttons for me.

Sammy Sam Sam has come of age. My wee Mr Guillemot, my little nature boy, my quiet mediator and stubbornly computer addicted shower hogger. My wild bird warrior, my cat loving wild haired model maker. My battenburg cake, steak done rare, seafood addicted boy is 16.

His 6 ft tall, pierced everywhere metal head man mountain/very polite pal turned up the night before with a stack of records and wielding a bottle of Amaretto with great pride and flourish. Changed days to raiding yer mum and dads drinks cabinet in the 80s on the sly. And Amaretto?!! What the actuals??!! Sam had a sip then stuck to water (much to my relief). And on this day, his birthday, he spent it doing a little of mostly all the somethings in life he likes doing topped by a visit from Grandma and Granda and a phone call from Auntie Jo. I even managed to avoid mentioning the dreaded prelims, at least i think I did.

Happy birthday Samshine. Lots of love, your very immature parents, your extremely bossy sister, the two dogs that bug the pants off you and your favourite, Thumper, Warrior of Meows and detector of good places to slumber.