Happy birthday, Lewis 🎉

Although—as you've probably heard me frequently rant—a person only has one birthday: the day they're expelled from their mother's birth canal, each proceeding year is an anniversary.

Technically speaking, today isn't your achievement; it's your mothers. Social construct, however, obliges me to congratulate you on the 20th day of September, despite you having minimum to do with it. If you'd sat on your arse for an entire year—during a pandemic, for instance—you'd still be entitled to receive praise on this day, simply for surviving as the Earth completes its orbit of the Sun.

Back to my obligation: last year, I gave you money that slipped through your fingers almost immediately, so I've been struggling to decide what to gift you for the 18th anniversary of the day you were born.

A couple of nights ago (literally, on the 18th), I had my eureka moment. There's a clue for another part of this website in your birthday card.

Love, always,
Uncle Tom

P.S. I apologise if I'm dead by the time you solve this. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.