Friday, December 9, 2011

My Little Guy is FIVE!

And I just can't believe it.



How did I blink, and five years have gone by?

Well, it happened, and we tried to make the best of his birthday, even though he had bronchitis. Poor little guy.

He gets sick every year on his birthday, but I think this year was the worst. He had fever for days, and wanted to do nothing but sleep on the couch or snuggle with me during the day, and throw fits at night.

I'll take the snuggle time, but the rest I could have done without!


There were three things he asked for this year: a train cake (AGAIN!), a Christmas train set, and his very own Christmas tree.

Maybe it was because I'm realizing that this is his very last year at home with me, since he starts kindergarten next year. Maybe it was because he was so sick. Or maybe it's just because I'm a sucker for his sweet little smile, but he got all his wishes.

Starting with the cake. It was all-buttecream, which I SUCK AT! But it was much faster (and less messy!) than making a fondant-covered train cake... so this is what he got. We had some issh-ahs with this one... not to mention the fact that I had lots of "help"! Christian was just DYING to help make her sweet little brother's cake. She named his train "The Get-Well Express." Clever girl!

 There is also a heart in the upper left corner, and a 5 in the lower right.

Opening gifts...

Look at that face! I was soooooo relieved to find that dadgum train! The store that he found it at had sold out by the time I got around to buying it for him!!!

Hubs lit the candles...

As we all sang "Happy Birthday."

My sweet little Baby Love!

Then he coughed all over the cake and I sprayed it with Lysol and we all enjoyed a nice chemical-ly piece of sugared goodness.

(I'll let you figure out which parts of that sentence are true, and which might not be!)

Despite being sick... AGAIN... on his birthday, I think he enjoyed the day. Him's my wittle love, and I just can't believe he's five. Or that he'll be climbing onto a bus every day, wearing his very own backpack, in just 8 short months.


I'd do well not to think about that.

Hormones, you know.