So, we have a lot of birthday parties coming up in the family. My son is having his 3rd birthday party in 2 weeks and it is pretty much all he talks about. And he's driving me crazy.
"Mommy, I want to go to my birfday farty."
"Can we go to my birfday farty now?"
"I want to go to Chuck E. Cheese for my birfday farty."
"I'm goin' to my birfday farty now."
"Daddy, I want to go to my Star Wars birfday farty at Chuck E. Cheese."
"I want my Star Wars cake now."
"I want to eat Yoda farty cupcakes."
"I want my birfday farty cake to have Luke Skywalker and Darf Vader with Luke Skywalker hanging off like this:" (then he hangs from the side of the couch or the TV stand or Harry's crib)
"I want Darf Maul on my birfday farty cake."
"I WANT TO GO TO MY BIRFDAY FARTY NOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!" (and then some fake crying)
He asks about his birfday farty at least 10 times a day. And really, if it wasn't for the adorable fact that he can't say his "p's" or "th's" and uses an "f" instead, which always makes me laugh inside, I might go insane.
Three days after his farty, I will have my 3oth birfday farty. Okay, okay, it will be my 37th birfday. Whatever. Then, 5 days after that will be Max's actual 3rd birfday, so we will want to celebrate again. Then, 11 days after that will be Harry's 1st birfday (small family farty) and then we will have a bigger birfday farty for him 2 days later.
I'm tired just typing all that.
I am going to be all fartied out by mid-September.
But then, oh then, I will have my husband's 40th birfday farty to plan in November. I have trouble believing I am old enough to be married to someone who is going to be 40 years old. And that my 20 year highschool reunion is next year. And that my phone says it is 109 degrees outside.
I need a nap.