brings back the
wonder of life.
My son has turned into a whirli-gig for his 3rd birthday. From one thing to the next like a maniacle hummingbird.
Whirli-gig. That is an almost perfect word to describe him. He finally passed out at 9:10pm. After waking up at 5am. If he had woken up at 5am with me again today, I think I would have thought seriously about the merits of cough syrup. Or indulge in a nice long cry.
Yesterday was Ray’s 3rd birthday. Nothing much, just him, Poppa and I. His family party will be on Sunday. For his actual b-day: A few presents, McDonalds for dinner, and playing with the toys afterwards. We drew on the concrete pad out back with side-walk chalk. We rammed cars. Ate a monkey, or tried to. Always moving from one thing to the next with lightning speed.
How can you not love a whirli-gig?