Saturday was DRL's 33rd birthday, and as such we had planned to spend the day rejoicing in his birth. This usually entails me tending to the child, allowing DRL to chat with friends, drink beer, and be unburdened by a
Even though I laid down most of the day, DRL got to play some mean rounds of beanbags. I think the mustache definitely added to his performance. Saturday night was less eventful than Friday. I didn't bother with the tent, Elena went down at 9:00, like normal, and slept until 7:30 (like normal). I was in bed by 11, though I wasn't asleep until after midnight since one of the most annoying Pounds boys decided fireworks -- really large, really loud fireworks -- were appropriate at 11:45 at night. Don't worry, I went outside and filled them in on the ways of the (sleeping) world.
Before bed, Gramma Carol gave the kids popsicles, or "pikesicle" as Elena says. They sat on the front stoop looking like an old time photograph. For a brief moment, I thought it was 1972. Except that I wasn't born yet, so I have no idea what 1972 looks like.
We left Sunday at nap time so that Elena could take advantage of the boring car ride. Less the sleep deprivation and sickness, it was a great weekend up north. I'm excited for the next one.
I'm pretty sure DRL still had a great birthday, too. Just look at him and his girl getting ready to blow out candles. Minus the 'stache, is there anything better?
I'm afraid not.