Birthdays Are Special
I love birthdays. Mine, especially. But those of my children the most, too.
Today Leah turns 9. NINE! And I'm looking forward to a week-long celebration.
As usual, she jumped into bed with me this morning to hear her birth story. It always starts "{insert birthday number here} years ago today ..." and I skim the details about labor and c-sections, elaborating on that moment when she entered the world, pooped on the scale (her favorite part) and we laid eyes on her for the first time. Pink as a strawberry.
Her sister created a treasure map to find her gifts this morning. And we've got a special afternoon planned before play practice.
Today Leah turns 9. NINE! And I'm looking forward to a week-long celebration.
As usual, she jumped into bed with me this morning to hear her birth story. It always starts "{insert birthday number here} years ago today ..." and I skim the details about labor and c-sections, elaborating on that moment when she entered the world, pooped on the scale (her favorite part) and we laid eyes on her for the first time. Pink as a strawberry.
Her sister created a treasure map to find her gifts this morning. And we've got a special afternoon planned before play practice.
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