birthday bash

Last weekend my Little B turned eight. Read that: E I G H T. I'm not certain how I missed the last eight years because I swear I haven't taken my eyes off of him for half a second, but he is definitely all of eight years old. (And his glasses make him amazing cute which frightens me just a bit.) This sweet boy of mine is . . . just who God ordered. I'm so glad my Lord doesn't make mistakes. I love my Little B in ways that I never fathomed.

So, a week before his birthday we took him and three buddies to play lazer tag. What a fun way to celebrate! Actually, only dads were present, but I hear it was awesome. Definitely worth a repeat, I believe.

Then, on his real birthday we just had my family over. My mom had to work that evening, so she and my dad visited in the afternoon and had some cake with us, then after they left, my brother came over - he hadn't been sure he could make it - and he had dinner with us. (Life is short, eat dessert first!)

But the real birthday bash came around lunch time, just before my parents arrived - Little B was riding his bike and literally bashed his elbow by running into the parked car we had not yet moved out of his way....oops. He was amazing, though, not crying or screaming or complaining while I cleaned the wound. It was quite large and bloody and gross and required a bit of gauze and tape for a couple of days. No stitches, thank goodness. Now, he has a war story to tell and battle scars to prove it. (I think the car won, though...it didn't get hurt.)