Three small madmen who are three, and "Mad Men"

I hope you'll indulge me, dear readers. My grandson was three today, and his birthday was a grand celebration which I share, below, with you. His real party is on Saturday; this was just a small event with his best friends Finn and Marcus. Imagine, having two best friends before you're three. My daughter's backyard is better than a playground, just full of toys, the hangout for lots of local kids, which is fine with her. Now more than ever, I'm sure - because my gift, which had been requested, was a large wading pool. They spent some time filling it up and the rest of the afternoon emptying it - scooping water out and splashing. The pool, believe it or not, has 3-D fish on it and 3-D goggles so you can appreciate them.

 Consultation on protocol.

Time out for smashing things.

And things with wheels.

Anna made the cupcakes and Finn's mother decorated them. With threes!

 Waiting for the cupcakes.

 Singing Happy Birthday.

A pretty damn good life, I'd say.

A quick comment on finales in television, of which we had two this past week -"Mad Men" and David Letterman. And both of which meant almost nothing to me. I never watched Letterman - it was on at 11.35, for God's sake, who stays up that late, except to watch Stephen Colbert? People keep saying how will they live without him - but what about Jon Stewart, he's the one we won't be able to live without.

Well ... I won't be able to live without. An interesting funny friend on the glassy screen late at night: what Jon is to me, what Dave was for millions.

As for "Mad Men," I'm really sorry I didn't watch what was obviously stellar television about a fascinating time in American life. I did see the last 3 episodes, because now - as those of you who follow these chronicles know - I have a PVR, and I actually managed to use it to tape the show. So I saw the famous zen finale and the famous Coke ad - and had no idea what to make of it, since I hardly knew the characters. But I was upset by what was shown - Don Draper flailing about in the middle of nowhere, learning that his ex-wife is dying of cancer and instead of returning to be a comfort or at least help out with his children, just keeps on going in a selfish alcoholic stupor. But then, he was a man of his times. Which weren't that long ago and yet felt like the Dark Ages, in some respects. Terrific TV.

It's 11.35. If Letterman were on, I could actually watch him for the first time. But he's not. Thank God, I get to go to bed.