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August 5, 2002
Happy Birthday, Angie!

I’m joyous and crushed all at once. Joyous because everyday Angie surprises me with something new she’s learned to say or do, my favorite of which is “I love you, poppy.” Crushed because these new things are signs of advancing age.

The cliché is she’ll always be daddy’s little girl. Today I certainly dispute that. I blinked, and she turned two. I’ll blink again and she’ll be married. She’ll always be daddy’s girl, but she’s no longer little. My wife asks me what I expected to happen. I don’t know, but certainly not to feel this heartbroken.