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 min...
... blogging my guts out