Thaaaaaat’s right.
Philip had 3 birthday parties to mark his fourth year.
Yes, I am tired.
Yes, it was worth it.
His “Baseball Party” with four little amigos was a sweet and calm affair.
We served a “ball park” lunch of hotdogs, doritos, apples and gatorade. Delish.
The the bat cake. He’d been asking for one for weeks. Oy. I waited until the morning of to get to work and it was too long. As the kids scarfed their lunches, I was frosting like a made women. Then the cake, this cake, slipped off the counter, making a bee-line for the floor. Thanks be to God for the impending baby and the resulting belly which caught the cake and also insured that I did not go ballistic because the bat had broken in half. Yay for pregnancy hormones! Jac laughed, I snarled something about hating my kitchen, then pieced things together just in time. No one was the wiser.
What is a fiesta without a pinata? (A darn good party, I say, but the kiddos think otherwise.) How brave were we (and by “we” I mean Jac, of course. I stayed hidden in the kitchen for most of the demolition. Pinatas stress me out.) letting them use a real baseball bat?
We laughed and laughed at how sissy-ly Tess swung at the “Puhl-lotta” (her term). She’s had tons of bat time and could clock her brothers with it if needed, but she turned into such a priss in front of everyone.
Opening the gifts! I love how excited everyone always is about the process. Oh, to be young again!
