Tomorrow my eldest son turns 15. Yep, he certainly is growing up fast, and any other cliché you can think of. And oh how special he is, how lucky he is, how amazing it is he is born on December 25.

Now I can understand if you’re one of those people who believe in imaginary friends, who around 2,000 years ago got hammered in a really bad way to a bit of furniture, and planted into the ground like a hills hoist, all to show you how to pick up SBS better on your telly, might think this is an amazing thing…, but it’s not.

Here is the joy of reason, and there is nothing mystical about it. There is a 1 in 365 chance of being born on December 25, just as there is a 1 in 365 chance of being born on any other day, except February 29, for which there is a 1 in 1461 chance.

To show how even more not very special my son is, he currently shares the birthday with around 19,178,082 other people on this earth, give or take a few. If you were to really break down the data, then I think the number for December 25 may be a little bit higher, because those people I mentioned earlier try to have their kids born on December 25, in the hope it moves them up a spot or two in the great big buffet queue in the sky.

So you see all you people out there, that go all drop jaw with awe and excitement, when you hear about my first born being born on December 25, well get over it, he is nothing special…,

…but he is very special to me. I love you Adrian, and I hope your birthday is as good as it can get, when everyone else is more interested in giving to themselves, instead of enjoying your birthday. I love you, and always will, and I love having you as part of my life. Happy birthday.