Birthday

Well, it’s official: I’m 25.

I know, I’m such a baby still…I just don’t feel like it.  I guess I’ve finally hit that point of no return when I actually feel like a real grown-up – you know, instead of the fake one I was when I was in college.  And I think what really made that sink in was my birthday, which was spent hanging out not at a bar or with friends but with my favorite girl.

And her new stuffed rat.  (Thanks, Grandpa Derick.)

It really crept up on me this year.  As a matter of fact, when my mom sent me a present a week or so ago I was initially confused as to what it was for; of course, I was busy planning Nora’s half birthday party, so I wasn’t even thinking about my own.  Such is the life of a mom.  The day passed without ceremony, which is also the life of a mom.  I don’t think I remember my mom ever having a birthday cake when we were growing up, although we always had delicious and elaborate ones.  Sorry, Mom.  Now that I’m the cake-baker, that’ll be me, too.  But, this isn’t a pity party, don’t worry, just a general observation.

And, who cares about cake when you have broccoli?

P.S. I thought everyone might enjoy some baby giggles.