i feel pretty strongly about our birthday morning traditions--
a sign made by dad, opening presents in pajamas, singing "happy birthday".
we also try to come up with something the kids won't expect. this time it was a trail of paper footprints for the birthday boy to follow, leading from his bed to a gift from mom and dad in the other room.
it kills me that i don't have a picture of olivia's gift to asher before he opened it. she worked until midnight the night before, making it perfect. i could have punched myself for suggesting at around 11:00 that maybe she ought to get to bed? it hurt her feelings, and i apologized. but still. i think about her not just packaging the gift, but shopping for it too--holding tight with one hand to her plastic hello kitty wallet (the other hand seesaw-ing against a hopelessly crooked pair of glasses--she needs new ones), comparing prices, making calculations in her head, methodically ticking things off her mental list, and getting so excited about her first time buying a "real" birthday gift with her very own money.
i do have a picture of the card, though (see photo). and oh i'm so glad for that.
they are growing up, these little ones. and i'm going to stop thinking about it before this post takes a turn towards the truly embarrasing and mushy. tell me. do you get this sentimental at birthdays?
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