Sous-Chef

I got to help make daddy's birthday cake yesterday! His birthday isn't until tomorrow, but we made his birthday cake a few days early. Who needs a birthday when you can have a birthweekend? I thought he would enjoy chocolate cake with sprinkles and that's exactly what he got.

It wasn't the prettiest cake in the world, but tasty trumps pretty any day. And, boy was it tasty!!

Even Davis enjoyed the festivities. That boy can eat some cake!

Only six more months until my birthday... I can hardly wait!

Love,

Weston

Flying Pigs

News flash: Hell has frozen over and pigs are flying overhead. Impossible? Not nearly as impossible as 12 inches of snow in Richardson, TX. And not just the icy, sleety wintry mix that curses our terrain... we got big, huge fluffy snowflakes, as if God decided to shake a feather pillow.

A good time was had by all. Chances are, I'll remember the Great Texas Blizzard of 2010, but poor Davis may never see snow again. Poor thing.

By the way, after a 40ish degree weekend, the snowman has seen better days. I think he lost his head today. Sorry Frosty...

Love,

Weston

One of these things does not belong...

Mama: So, what do you want Santa to bring you this year for Christmas?
Me: Trains, train tracks... oh, and some telephone poles and some dirt... and some signs.
Mama: Well, what does Davis want from Santa?
Me: Baby food.
Mama: No toys?
Me: Yeah, he wants a rattle.

I better get a telephone pole this year or I will have a MAJOR freak out. Major.

Love,

Weston

Mmmmmm... cupcakes!

My brother, Davis, has never met a food he hasn't liked. For him, it's not eating... it's a full contact sport. What a little piggy. I'm much more delicate when eating a cupcake...

11 Months

Little Brother is 11 months old today. Time flies...

Three

Someone once said that whoever coined the phrase "Terrible Twos" never had a three-year old. As of yesterday, I made my official entrance into the "Trying Threes."

try⋅ing

–adjective: extremely annoying, difficult, or the like; straining one's patience and goodwill to the limit: a trying day; a trying experience.

Enough said.

My post-birthday celebration has involved a series of nuclear-style meltdowns, including screaming, kicking, biting, and foaming at the mouth. I am serious about the foam.

In spite of the massive temper tantrums, I've had a wonderful three years. How does one describe my three-year existence? Outdoor enthusiast. Stand-up comedian. Master orator. Candy connoisseur. Imagination Mover. Book worm. Big brother. Independent thinker. Amateur fire fighter. Truck savant. Unrivaled debater. Certified goofball. Cat nemesis. Charming friend.

Apple of mama's eye? Most definitely.

Happy Birthday Me!

Love,

Weston

Au contraire

At what age does one begin knowing more than one's parents? From my own experience, I think it happens around 34 months. Yes, it finally happened. I have acquired more knowledge in my nearly three-year existence than my parents' combined 71 years. Master's degrees be darned... I know everything.

This realization of my sponge-like ability to absorb knowledge is exhilarating. I wake every morning with renewed zeal to contradict what my parents say. For instance:

Mama- "You need to go potty."
Me- "No, I not need to go potty." (all the while squirming and crossing my legs)

Mama- "Those are the fire truck's lights."
Me- "Those are the sirens."
Mama- "No, those are the lights."
Me- "NO THEY NOT. Those are the sirens."

And, of course mama's personal favorite dialogue of late:

Mama- "That's the red truck."
Me- "No, it's a tow truck."
Mama- "No, it's a red truck."
Me- "No, it's a tow truck."
Mama (turning page to discover it is indeed a tow truck which happens to be red)- "Oh, it's a tow truck."

Shampoo. Rinse. Repeat.

I'm sure it is a logical fallacy to defend your argument regardless of it's accuracy. Who cares! It sure is fun to watch mama steam as she tries to contain her anger over my irritating persistence. When they got married, daddy told mama that she was always right and that he was never wrong. They never considered the unstable THIRD variable of an obstinate, strong-willed child... ME! Regardless of what mama and daddy think, I am always right... never wrong... my ideas, conclusions, and interests trump those of said parental authority!

All I can say is that, mama, you were warned long ago that payback is H3LL!

Love,

Weston