Twelve years of the Damonater

Another school year on the books; last day of sixth grade for the Damonater. Dada and I had to perform the traditional we-must-embarrass-you-at-the-bus-stop ritual which included sign and pirouettes from Dada. He threatened to wear a pink tutu while he did them... methinks I should find elastic and pink tulle and call his bluff. Watch out, Damon- Dada might actually have a tutu for the last day of seventh grade next year!

So then this kid went and had a birthday. Yes, for those of you keeping track, I didn't forget the firstborn's (again), but these pictures were easier to access and therefore get to go first. Since this kid loves A) anything water related and B) sugar, he got a fair amount of gifts relating to one or the other. 

Yes, that is indeed the Christmas tree still up in the sunroom. Don't judge. Let's talk about that: Honey is terrified of not just storms but also precipitation. We have a metal roof. It is incompatible with her terror of water coming down from the sky. Especially if there is lightning or thunder involved. Therefore, if we leave the tree on like a big nightlight, she is a little bit less affected by the variations of darkness versus darkness with lightning. We also play music through multiple rooms if we know it's going to rain. And we leave the basement door open. Any mixture of those actions may or may not invoke a night of sleep for the rest of us, or she may still decide to bull her way through the baby gate into the kitchen with an almighty racket which then leads to sleep deprived family members staggering downstairs into the light and music to reinstall said gate and grumble. I actually spent a night in our playhouse out back this week so that I could sleep through a rainy night and not have to deal with her. So yes, tree is still up. 

Or the short version, we're supposed to keep the Christmas spirit in our hearts all year long.

Or the shortest version, we like it lit up.

Yes, that's an 8 on the cake along with four red candles. Dada was in charge of the math and he declared that two red candles plus the 8 equaled 10 and then two more red candles makes twelve. 

How can our baby be twelve?

He was laughing about the difference in our skin tone and I told him I've been sitting at his baseball games and working in the garden and he'd been in a shirt in school, so it wasn't a fair comparison. He'll get there. While we protected his arms and neck and ears his first day at the pool this summer, his nose burned and then his mask rubbing made it blister which he then peeled off, hence the scab(s) on his nose.

I was tremendously pleased with his cake. I figure it's Grandma Barb worthy, and that's high praise. It's all gone now, so I must have done something right!