But there is no rule book I know of which says you can only mark the big occasions in your life.
There is a school of thought that suggests celebrating the lesser moments in one's time on this good Earth is just as appropriate.
I can see dangers (particularly for the liver) in liquid celebrations like you did when you first became a parent on a regular basis but I'm sure you get what I mean. Just celebrate your successes. One way or another.
I do. Like this past week for example when I bought a pair of black socks as a reward for a little bit of success. Let me explain.
I have long been the owner of a pair of faulty bathroom scales.
Ever since I've had them, they have consistently added a couple of kilos to the weight I KNOW I am.
I mean, I've weighed the same for years. Basically, since I was 25 and in my prime. It just annoys me we continue to let such faulty apparatus be sold.
It's the same with a lot of my clothes.
Whatever happened to the good old days when your trousers didn't shrink in the closet?
When that shirt you bought for that wedding not that long ago sat comfortably on your frame instead of now threatening to rip apart like in a scene from The Incredible Hulk back in the day.
I'm sure it's the material they use these days. Obviously substandard and not made to last. Anyway.
Having had my annual rant at the incorrect scales and the manufacture of clothes using materials which obviously shrink dramatically when subjected to wardrobe darkness, clothesline sunshine, wind and washing machine water, Mrs P dished up a nice healthy plate of Home Truth.
Long story short, for the last six weeks or so I've been watching what I eat and I've lost a bit of weight.
I've been quite happy with the results.
And that's where the socks came in.
Upon looking down past my belly the other day I noticed a hitherto previously unseen hole in the big toe portion of my sock.
Ordinarily, this would not have bothered me – mainly because I wouldn't have been able to see my toes let alone a hole – but one thing a bit of weight loss does is it makes you feel a bit better.
About yourself and the world in general. Even the fact the All Blacks aren't as good as they used to be.
I have to say, with my new eating regime, the current price of broccoli is a major concern.
Right up there with the fact the ABs are struggling a bit. Who would've thought I'd ever be saying that in the same breath?
But I digress.
So, full of happiness and natural charm - I'm usually 85 per cent natural charm anyway so the happiness just topped me up nicely - I set off to the sock shop with my beloved in tow, presumably to make sure I didn't go and send us bankrupt but, now I think about it, probably more likely so she could pop into Briscoes while we were in town.
I really must get in touch with them and see if I can get her a special VIP customer card or something.
Did I tell you she wants to be the next Briscoe's Lady when the current one retires? Stay tuned.
Now, I like to think of myself as decisive when it comes to shopping. According to Mrs P "boring" would be another description but I care not.
For me (and I'm sure millions of blokes around the world) when it comes to things like socks and undies it's in and out. Done.
So, while Mrs P was distracted by an expensive pair of plain black socks, I've grabbed an economic three-pack with a different colour toe-piece on each pair and headed for the counter.
I'm halfway through zapping the eftpos card when she breathlessly rushes up.
Was I sure that's what I wanted? Yep. Not just plain black? Nope. I definitely want the ones with the different colour toe-piece? Yep.
At this point the bloke behind the counter nods in agreement with me.
"Good choice," he says with a wink at Mrs P. "It's always easier for the bigger man to see his toes when he looks down if there's a bit of colour in his socks."
I think if I'd had my faulty bathroom scales with me I'd have thrown them at him.
