Eight Just Doesn't Seem Right

(She wanted the dangerous honor of lighting her own candle this year.)







How can it be that this lively little Bird flew into John's panicked arms eight years ago?  Eight?!!

Yup.  It's eight, alright.

And she has the monster cake to prove it.  (Non-edible stuffed monster snapshot to come someday...when I finish it.)

 The children and I were downtown for most of the day on Susie's big day, thanks to Zeke's penchant for climbing and falling from great heights, so time seemed short by the time we arrived home.  We crammed in enough celebrating to last a whole day, though, with THREE birthday meals, birthday spankings, singing, and a bright red wig, to boot.

Happy birthday, Susannah Wren!  Rest safe in the shadow of His wings, girl of ours.
We love you! (Cuckoo.)

*Bonus anecdote:
Last week, John brought home supper and SODA for us as a surprise.  In her excitement, Susie accidentally called the soda "Goat Fruit" soda, and from now on-- in this household, at least-- the word "grapefruit" is obsolete.