In accordance with the statutes of childhood birthdays around the world, we celebrated daily for 3 weeks in June and officially crowned June the "birthday month." Our first celebration was at Anne and Max's house - a lovely dinner to celebrate Miss Ella.
On the 13th, we honored her request to dine at El Rancho Grande for her "good stuff" (= a mystery mixture of refried beans, yellow rice, sour cream, salsa and other random ingredients from around the table. I know, sounds delicious, right?.) Then back to the house for cookies, ice cream and gifts.
And the party! A cookout for 30, field games, canoeing, a pinata, and homemade cupcakes from Granny made for a lovely day at the park. Friends and family chipped in on a trampoline for Ella and a Power Wheels ATV for Carson. Once that was revealed, Carson was a blur for almost an hour!
The 23rd brought Carson to the ripe old age of three. We woke him on that Saturday with a song and a smile. He opened his eyes wide, sat up, and yelled "TODAY I AM FWEE!!!"
I thereby decided that I would adopt this line as the first thing out of my mouth on each and every birthday.
Carson said the number one thing he wanted to do on his birthday was "see a ja-waff." We met Cindy and family at the zoo for the day and Carson got to FEED the giraffe. I don't think he had any idea that a living creature could catch something 6 inches in front of itself with its tongue. Carson was riveted.
We finished off the evening at—you guessed it—El Rancho Grande in Cincinnati.
After the weeks of festivities and plans, the reality settled in: 7 and 3 marks a huge leap for us.
For the first time in seven years, there's no presence of an infant or toddler. We are finished with diapers and sippy cups. No longer do we own a high chair or a potty seat. Our bottles have been given to charity; the crib is in the attic.
There's certainly a sense of freedom that comes with jumping in the car and going - but there's a part of me that looks back with nostalgia over those late night feedings, zipping up footy pajamas after a bath, or watching those unsteady first steps. What if I forget that Ella's first word was "duck"? Or that we called Carson "little squeaker" because of the constant birdy noises he made during his first few months?
Let the fun begin!