Wonder Boy 10/25/95

I made Beth's peanut butter cookies for Jacob the other day -- he really loves 'em with white chocolate chips and pistachios** -- and I'm making homemade pizza for his birthday dinner tonight. Usually, I use a focaccia dough (two cups of bread flour, one cup of water, one teaspoon of salt, one packet of yeast, one tablespoon of olive oil), but the crust always comes out too thick. Good, but thick. So tonight, I'm following The Fanatic Cook's thin crust pizza recipe. Cross your fingers.

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I'll save more Jake stories for future birthdays, but here's one for today. As a toddler, Jake was a perfectionist. If he couldn't do it right, he wouldn't do it at all. This drove us crazy because he wouldn't talk. We knew he could talk. Just knew it. One day, at a Vietnamese restaurant in San Antonio, Karen and I leaned in towards Jacob and pointed at a young Texan couple at a nearby table. "Bubbas, Jake," we said, keeping our voices low. "Buh-buhs. Buh-buhs." "Buh-buh," Jake said. It was his first word. "Yes!" we cried. "You did it. Now do it again. Bubba. Buh-buh." Nothing. He kept his mouth shut for another year, and then he began talking in full sentences.

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Happy Birthday, Jake!

You're Ten Now No More Free Ride

You'll find the classifieds on your bed.

D. **Yes, Beth, I'm tweaking you.