Happy DiDi, Mama!

On Saturday I turned one-quarter of a century. 25. I'm not feeling too old, in case you're wondering. In fact, I feel just about right.

John and Tommy made french toast for breakfast that day, and John worked pretty hard to get Tommy to offer birthday congrats. What came out was, "Happy DiDi!!" Pretty close.

Then, this morning, we had waffles with syrup, which Tommy confused for french toast. "Happy DiDi!!" he exclaimed. After all, syrup must mean it's my birthday again.

I like the way this kid thinks...