Birthday Blues

So, you gotta love three year olds. They are so honest and say the greatest things.

Yesterday, Nana asked Abby how old she is. "Three." How old is Charlie (the cat). "Eleven." (Which is correct. She learned that at his last vet visit.) How old is mommy?

"Twenty minutes."

They took her to town to get some birthday stuff while I napped away a migraine with Nathan. So we go out for dinner and she's telling us she wants to go home. We have to go to Nana's house and have a birthday brownie and candles and sing the birthday song to mommy. (Kind of gave away the surprise)

So we get home and have a couple of presents and do the singing and they remember there is one more present out in the car. They let Abby pick something out all by herself. Abby goes with Papa to get it and she is so excited. She comes back in with a wal-mart bag and says, "Here, Mommy. We got your socks." She got me pink socks with a darker pink cat head and words that say "Miss Kitty". Gotta love it.