My birthday

Mom wrote about my party. I'm writing about my birthday day. The real one. TuesdayAprilThirteenthTwoThousandTen. I'm warning you there is a lot of talk about food in this post. If you're one of those food-is-not-love or fun-without-food people, save it.

I had birthday breakfast with Mom. We were supposed to go for pancakes. Mom said I couldn't sit through pancakes. I told her she was being unreasonable. I can too sit. I just like to get up too.

So we went for birthday kolaches. Where I got up.

Part of the reason I got up was to dance. Gotta dance.





Then I sat down. Here's proof.









Mom brought oatmeal raisin cookies for my class for afternoon snack. She was late. Everyone was hungry. The teachers didn't give us our regular snack. I told them I could have eaten both.

Oh yeah, there are no pictures of cookie time. Mom was too busy doling out cookies to crying toddlers to get her camera out.

After school I went for pizza with Grandpa Joe, Grandma Sivi, Auntie Ali, and Mom. Mom gave me spinach pizza. I ate every bite. I also ate pepperoni pizza and helped myself to quite a bit of Sivi's macaroni-and-cheese pizza. (If you're thinking that sounds like just the best thing ever, you're right.) I tried one of the baby tomatoes. It squirted weird juice in my mouth so I spit it out.









Mom is standing over my shoulder and insists I tell you all that she put my food on my plate but I took it off and put it on my napkin. Why that is worth interrupting my blogging, I'm not sure, but she drives me everywhere so whatever.

I got bored after a while so Auntie Ali took me for a walk and we wound up in this really loud room. Mom won't let me drive her car so I drove this one instead.







I drive better than Auntie Ali. See?



It was a fairly awesome birthday, if I do say so myself.