It is 6/6/12. Now, if you could take the two sixes, turn the second one around, draw that number 1 across the top with the bottom of it as the rear fender and the 2 above it providing the rider in race mode, you’ll have it: my son on a bicycle.
Actually, the word bicycle itself kinda looks (especially if you flip the e onto the top to be the rider’s smiling face and the l to be its arms) like one pulling a baby trailer with the little traffic flag flying at the back.
Which totally fits.
It is our son’s birthday, he of the bike and baby trailer and of letting his Grampa go first. We Skyped; Parker said “Hi” and put his pacifier in, eyes wide, when his dad asked where his ears were. Heh. We knew he knew. Then he decided it was okay to be shown off and he was all ears. And nose. “Where’s your mouth?” A plug for a plug and acute of the cute.
After awhile, he decided enough of this not-here–BE here! And he tried to climb into their screen so we could really be together, and maybe even get a hug!
Workin’ on it, kiddo, workin’ on it.
Happy Birthday, little Richard!