
I OCCASIONALLY CALL HIM “darling Everett.” His parents sometimes call him “Sweet Pea.” He is my grandson Everett, who recently turned one and whose birthday we celebrated in Madison, Wisconsin, on Sunday.
For one day, he was also “The Boss Baby.” That 2017 movie themed Everett’s party with watching the film a prerequisite for party-goers. Everett likely could have cared less whether he was a birthday boss. He did, however, look adorable in his upper management tuxedo style onesie worn for photos only. The size two suit was too small and couldn’t be bottom snapped onto his nearly 30-pound lengthy body. So off it came shortly after the party began.
Everett has been above average in size since birth. His wide chest and 10-pound birth weight complicated his delivery with my daughter nearly dying due to severe postpartum hemorrhaging that required three units of blood. So, yes, this party brought back memories of Everett’s difficult birth and how thankful we all are that his mama survived.

Here was this beautiful baby boy a year later strapped into his high chair fisting a thin slice of a custom made Boss Baby three-layer cake, all eyes on him. As we—parents, maternal grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousins and a family friend—gathered round to sing “Happy birthday,” Everett took it all in. And I felt the love that comes with celebrating someone you love deeply and widely.

I know I am biased as Everett’s grandma. But he is one cute baby with a head full of blonde curls. He was born with dark, straight hair. In the past year, this one-year-old has grown and changed so much, as babies do. Everett began walking on his birthday and by party day moved with confidence. His new-found skill brought many a smile.

It was a joy-filled afternoon for all nine of us gathered on a cold January afternoon in eastern Wisconsin to celebrate Everett. We laughed, took lots of photos of the birthday boy while he ate his cake and sort of opened gifts. We played Everett BINGO, a customized game that tested our knowledge of the birthday boy. He could have been a Felix or a Cora. Ceiling fans once mesmerized him. His favorite Pokemon is Pikachu, according to his two young Minnesota cousins.
These are the memories I hold now of my grandson’s first birthday party, the memories I carried back to my southern Minnesota home a four-hour drive away. I miss Everett already. I also missed out on holding and cuddling him because he would have none of that. From anyone. He’s become a mama and daddy’s boy in the presence of anyone mostly unfamiliar to him, dear family or not. That was hard on me. I wanted to scoop Everett into my arms, hold him, read to him, do all those things grandmas do with their grandbabies. I recognize this as a phase because Everett’s mama was the same way at this age.
For now I hope frequent video calls will grow Everett’s trust of me. His oldest cousin Izzy, 9, has an even better idea: Move closer to family. If only The Boss Baby would make an executive decision to relocate hundreds of miles west to Minnesota. Or at least far western Wisconsin. The Minnesota division of his company would appreciate that immensely, thank you.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling













































Reflecting on Alexander Faribault upon his June 22 birthday June 17, 2026
Tags: Alexander Faribault, Alexander Faribault House, birthday, Calvary Cemetery, celebration, commentary, Dakota, diversity, events, Faribault, fur trader, history, June 22, Minnesota, open house, Rice County Historical Society, Wahpekute
MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED since I toured the nondescript wood-frame house built by Alexander Faribault in 1853. Multiple times a week I pass by this house which sits along busy Minnesota State Highway 60 in downtown Faribault. It’s become so much a part of the local landscape that I don’t even notice the building which was briefly home to Faribault and his family. But it’s an important part of local history given Alexander Faribault founded the town in 1855.
On Monday, June 22, Alexander Faribault will be celebrated at a free birthday open house from 5-6:30 p.m. in his former home at 12 First Avenue Northeast. Born 220 years ago in 1806, Faribault died at age 76 in November 1882.
Attendees at the upcoming birthday celebration can learn a whole lot more about Faribault, the town and the house from staff and volunteers with the Rice County Historical Society. I’m always up to learning more about the city I’ve called home since 1984.
I know the basics about Alexander Faribault, a licensed fur trader who first established a trading post along the Cannon River in 1826 or 1827, depending on your information source. He was only twenty years old. He grew his business throughout the region, trading with the Wahpekute, a band of the Dakota, and moving his trading post to the confluence of the Cannon and Straight Rivers, current-day Faribault.
I imagine for Faribault, who was French Canadian and Dakota, developing trading partnerships with the Dakota proved easy given his understanding of the people, their language and culture. But later that same relationship proved challenging for him. Some locals, after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862, no longer appreciated his friendship with the Dakota and his willingness to shelter some of them on his farm.
Back then, just like today, this community has not always been accepting of others. In the 1860s, the Dakota were targeted. Today it is the Somali community. It’s disheartening when history repeats itself, when differences in skin color, food, culture and language separate us. Alexander Faribault, as a mixed blood who embraced the Dakota, surely witnessed and felt the challenges of injustices and discrimination.
My community has certainly made progress in welcoming all to our city. Yet, we could do better. I still hear derogatory comments about our Somali neighbors, worsened by the current political climate. I still hear derogatory comments about our Hispanic neighbors, made worse by current immigration policies. We are all, unless Indigenous or descendants of slaves, of immigrant roots, something people often forget.
Alexander Faribault wasn’t “from” here. He was born in Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin. But he came here, established a fur trading business and eventually founded the city of Faribault. By all accounts, he was kind, generous and compassionate and served in many capacities from interpreter to territorial legislator to school board member to postmaster. I’m sure he had his flaws. We all do. But it seems Alexander Faribault did his best to build a strong and inclusive community that has grown into the diverse city of today. I think he’d appreciate a legacy of diversity.
On a 1958 marker at the entrance to Calvary Cemetery where Alexander Faribault is buried, these words are written about him: Race or creed did not color his judgments. He saw in every man the image of God and thereby the possibility of making this a better place in which to live.
Those seem necessary and profound words for all of us to read. Especially today.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling