Every other year my kids get a "bells and whistles" birthday party. This was Holt's year. But since we couldn't reserve Holt's venue of choice until the week after his actual birthday and that is a long time to wait when you're 8 years old and there's wrapped gifts hanging out in the kitchen, we had a little family lunch at Fuddruckers on the 12th, his actual birthday.

His "ta-da!" present from us this year was a new bike that we gave to him the month prior so he could enjoy it during the blessed temperatures of fall. We took his gifts from his grandparents and his sisters.

We crowded into the Elvis Presley booth (our fav), gorged upon burgers, fries, and a mixture of carbonated drinks (the "Suicide" drink of my youth prevails still).


I love birthday memories like these, just us and no fuss. And were it not for this day 8 years ago, I would never have played with legos or bakugans, I wouldn't be able to talk like Yoda, and I wouldn't appreciate the humor of a good toot joke.


Eight years from the day we thought we'd lose him in the delivery room, he was sandwiched between his sisters, laughing hysterically over his new stuffed opossum. God has blessed me rich.