As if you don't know!

As much as Milo, Blair has been a perpetual source of amusing childhood innocence. He is often so quiet and demure that he gets overlooked in the wake of Milo's earthquake. Alas, the plight of the middle child remains unchanged, but Blair can be just as . . . precocious.
A long time ago, when I had only just begun my teaching career, Blair at the delicate age of four accompanied me to the college where I was working. We had occasion to enter the staff room during the lunch hour, which was, of course, filled with a gaggle of geese in full cluck. The paradigmatic cuteness of Blair acted like nothing shy of an estrogen explosion in the room and the maternal instincts caused him to suffer the pinched-cheek ritual more than once. One of the inquisitive ladies decided to engage him in conversation. She asked the usual banal plethora of questions and finally came to the requisite inquiry about age. After determining that he was four-years-old, she then proceeded to ask when he was turning five. He looked at me with the most incredulous expression. He couldn't believe the stupidity of what he was being asked and his expression clearly asked me if she was serious. Of course, I too was confused as to his reaction and could offer him no support so he was left to resolve the question himself. He looked directly at her and in the most expressively condescending way ever, provided her with the obvious answer. "On my birthday, of course!" Ha-ha! Attaboy! Give'em hell, Blair!

See you in hell,
Shakes.