birthdays

Years ago, when Osama bin Laden first entered the landscape, I realized that we share the same birthday. Not such a big deal.  Lots of people share birthdays with lots of folks.  Except that was not *my* job, sharing a birthday with a villain.  My brother shares his with Hitler, and my mother shares hers with Saddam Hussein.  

Son 2.o didn't know who any of these people were, but my older son did.  "What about my birthday?"

We looked it up. Josef Stalin.  No kidding.

Younger son wanted in on the famous birthday thing, so we looked up his.  We couldn't find any megalomaniac killers.  But we did find Charlton Heston.

"Who's he?"

"Planet of the Apes.  'Look, Mommy! It's a man!'  That guy."

Son 2.o was skeptical.  

"He was also Moses.  Or maybe God.  I can't remember."

Still skeptical.

"So he's old.  Was he in Spartacus?"

"No.  Sorry."

Disappointment.

"But he's big with the NRA."

General excitement and horror.  Not ideal, but this, evidently, made Mr. Heston an almost-sufficiently sinister birthday buddy.

Happy day, gentlemen.