“He was an introverted kid, so I didn’t send him to his room as punishment. No, I took him to a party.”

“He was just a kid. He didn’t care. He was like, “I’m getting in my mom’s van and I’m going home.” I was just a kid, too. But I cared. With him gone, who was I going to play Plato and Socrates with?
”

“When I didn’t know him I punched him in the face. The best part about him is his nose.”

“I didn’t feel like buying him the jacket he asked for for Christmas, so I just got him a coat hanger with a sticky note attached that read, “Here’s something for you to hang your dreams on, pal.”

“I didn’t hear what was said, but I laughed, because I was too embarrassed to embarrass him by breaking up his punch line and laughter by asking him to repeat it.”

“I met a man named Birthday. I didn’t tell him when I was born, because I thought that that one day in my life, a day I don’t even remember, might define his own identity, and I didn’t want to make him cry.”

“He wore red, white, and blue, but he didn’t look patriotic—he looked like a sloppily wrapped birthday present. But it’s not his fault. I tried to wrap him as tight as I could without restricting movement.”