Another birthday has passed. And, thankfully, I have no pictures to document the tragedy of it all. I think I am going to stop counting and not reveal the age that I have become instead solely focusing on the age I previously was. I'm not asking for ridiculous things. I don't wish I were 15, 18, or 21. I am thinking 25, even 27 sounds nice. Let's go with that.
The weekend was fairly uneventful, per my request. Two good friends came into town for some power shopping and un-birthday related activities. Jack was stellar the whole shopping trip which likely bore him to tears -- we were looking for bridesmaids dresses.
Husband was at Penn State until early morning Sunday. I got some good loot and have really no complaints ... except for that age thing.
One final picture (maybe) from Christmas.
The face of a little boy who hadn't had a nap in 4 days and had eaten too many cookies.
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