A few weeks ago, I went to Dunkin Donuts (alternately referred to as “the shrine” in our household) with my sister-in-law Kathleen. She offered to buy me a doughnut, and I requested the pumpkin pie variety I’d seen in advertisements. Unfortunately, we arrived a few weeks too late for that. Instead, we split a festive little number called the holiday star.

Shortly thereafter, I dressed Henry in his star-covered snowsuit, and somehow was reminded how close his birthday is to Christmas. It was the birth of a new nickname. I’m sure he’s going to be really excited about it when he’s thirteen, but for now, there aren’t any complaints.