It’s my birthday, number 47, and once again, after 20something birthdays with rather attractive partner, he’s got nothing. No packages, presents, bows or bags. No card. No wine. No dinner plans. No cake. Zero. Zilch. Nuthin’. The kids are awesome, and come thru with a card, poem, necklace and without fail, our traditional birthday wake-up call: blasting The Beatles Birthday Song at the crack of dawn with a wake-up-it’s-your-birthday dance