Tate, our perpetual teenager, is four!
It has been a most celebratory weekend, beginning with his godmother Kellaura’s Ordination to the Priesthood on Friday night, followed by Tate’s Frozen party yesterday, his cousin Nils’s first birthday party today, and his family dinner tonight.
The blur here is completely appropriate. With close to 20 four-year-olds over yesterday, it was loud, festive, and one of my favorite parties yet.
Tate’s version of Frozen is a little different from many of his girl friends’ versions, high points including the opening Frozen Heart scene, Olaf yelling, “Watch out for my butt!” and the ever popular Prince Hans. In the spirit of Tate’s Frozen, we had a snowball fight, which in Texas means confetti eggs. The idea was all Rush’s, way back in July when we first started talking about Tate’s Frozen party. My mom and I have been saving egg shells since July, so there were dozens –and dozens- of eggs. A big hearty thanks to my mom and dad for stuffing all the eggs on Friday night while we were at the ordination.
Tate likes to spend a few weeks requesting Eyeball for his birthday dinner before finally deciding on a different meal; this year spaghetti and green beans.
(Jim Gaffigan alter ego voice: Why isn’t their baby wearing clothes? Do they not have clothes? Someone should get that baby some clo-Oh, they’re eating spaghetti.)
Tate is both a total sweetie and a wild man. For the past year so many of my mornings began with three-year-old Tate coming into my room very early in his little kid pjs, starting my day off with a good hug. I hope that continues with four-year-old Tate, at least for awhile.
That birthday cake moment is where it all started to pass from silly into bonkers wired, which is where it stands right now, an hour after bedtime. Good night and sweet dreams, birthday boy!
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