The youngest child has been under the weather this week, and just started feeling better on Saturday. Good thing, too, because his birthday party was on Sunday.
I made him take a nap on Sunday afternoon before the party, because I know he was still recovering. Nevertheless, he spent the first half of his birthday party bouncing like a maniac and the second half in my arms. That baby didn't even eat cake. Or pizza.
It was seven o'clock and he was ready for bed. B-E-D.
He did perk up when he got the cake topper, Luke and Darth Vader with light up lightsabers. But otherwise he was exhausted.
Later, as I was putting him to bed, I said, "Buddy, I'm so sorry that your party was kind of a bummer."
He looked at me like I'd just told him that Santa wasn't real. "Mommy, my birthday was the funnest EVER."
And there you have it. A fun party where you won't look at your friends for half the party, and the memories are only good. I'm so grateful.