We were already pulling up to our New Year’s Eve party tonight when one of our three children (the oldest one) finally caught on that it was our anniversary today.

“Oh, Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!”

“Thank you, Clara,” Andrea and I both said, smiling into the backseat. It was a small recognition, but still meaningful.

Gideon, however, chuckled to himself, “What do you mean, Mom and Dad, Happy Anniversary?” He waved his hand at the window, “More like Happy Anniversary, THE WHOLE WORLD!”

“Um…” I opened my mouth to correct him and then hesitated, considering what he had just said. “Okay, you know what Gideon? This time, you might just be accidentally correct on a couple of different levels.”

He laughed and raised his fists into the air in triumph. It would appear that “Accidentally Correct” is perhaps his favorite way of being correct.

I helped the kids out of the car and then watched as they propelled themselves, skidding across the parking lot towards the building. I took Andrea’s arm in mine and began our slow uphill shuffle behind them. Around us, the world spun like a clock with far too many hands. An old cuckoo ready to burst with nonsense at any moment. I squeezed my wife’s hand as I remember doing every year for the past 13 years. Somewhere deep in the cosmos, I imagined God reaching out towards the Earth and doing the same.

With a complicated sigh, we opened the door and stepped through it into the crowded room. Happy Anniversary, Andrea. Happy Anniversary, The Whole World.