This was Michael’s birthday card this year.
It might not seem like a particularly traditional card for your son’s 33rd birthday, but as soon as I saw it I knew I had to buy it. There wasn't even really a decision to make. That was Michael's card.
When he was about two years old, Michael went to a special nursery centred around speech therapy because he struggled with forming words. He could communicate what he wanted or needed perfectly well, but the sounds in the words didn’t always come out in the right order. If he said “table”, for example, it came out as “batle”. I can still hear him saying it now.
But there was one thing that apparently didn't present the same problem.
Wonderwall.
Michael could sing Wonderwall word perfect in the car whenever we played (What's the Story) Morning Glory? And we played that CD a lot.
There are some completely insignificant bits of your children's childhood that somehow lodge themselves in your brain forever. You forget entire minor events, appointments and probably quite important milestones, but thirty-one years later you can still remember a two-year-old singing Oasis in the back of the car.
Which is why, when I saw this card, it made perfect sense to me and probably no-one else but I suppose those are the best birthday cards really. The ones that aren't particularly funny until you know the story behind them.
Although there has now been an unexpected development.
Michael informed me yesterday that he's not actually that keen on Oasis. Thirty-one years I've been carrying this lovely little memory around and apparently he's moved on. I may have to disown him.