On his actual birthday, just Dylan and I spent the day together. How appropriate, really, since that is how his life began. I took him to the mall, so we could go to his favorite place - the Mr. Rogers Playspace. Dylan LOVES that place. I put him down and whooooosh, he's off, like a rocket, crawling through tunnels, climbing the slide, toddling into the middle of the chaos that is a crowd of running, squealing older kids, and loving every minute of it. By the time we leave, I am a sweaty mess, and my back aches, and I have decided that if one more kid asks me why he wears a helmet, I'm saying "He's an alien. He is from Mars, and if you don't walk away, he will eat you!" (I make friends wherever I go).
While we were at the mall, I figured we might as well do some shopping. For Dylan, of course. I might hate shopping for clothes for myself, but I love shopping for clothes for Dylan. There are some women who are still dressing their 3 year old boys in cutesy wutesy teddy bear overalls that say "Too cute". Not me. I am not a girly girl - never was, never will be. I wanted a boy, a full throttle, rough and tough, down and dirty boy, and that is what I got. He's not a baby anymore, so for his birthday, he got some big boy clothes.
The skull hat might be a bit drastic, but my husband loves it! After the mall, we went to a consignment store. We walked in and I saw it (musical notes, harps playing, and angels singing). I moved closer cautiously, so as to not attract attention. I looked to my left, looked to my right, looked at Dylan, shrugged, and quickly pulled it into our cart. Then, I checked the price tag. Two dollars and fifty cents!! I looked around again expecting Ashton to jump out from somewhere, yelling "PUNKED!" I hightailed it to the checkout counter before he got the chance, while inside doing a victory dance and squealing like a little girl. This is what Dylan got for his birthday, for $2.50...
He is excited too...
Later that evening, Jim drove home like a maniac breaking possibly every law regarding operating a motor vehicle, for one thing. To sing Happy Birthday to Dylan at precisely the time he was born. What a sweet daddy! Me, I let him eat cake BEFORE dinner, so I'm pretty cool, too. What a great day.
