Hey Shorty, it's your birthday

My mom called this morning. She and my dad were shopping for Logyn's birthday gifts. Which is to say, my mom called so that I could listen to the two of them shop.

"What about these stacking blocks?" asked my dad.

"She doesn't even like stacking blocks. And besides, you just want to throw them at my head."

Talking to me for the first time since I got on the phone, my mom said, "The other night, your father and I were throwing Logyn's shape sorter blocks at each other. I mean, we were really pelting each other with them. It was great. And the whole time, Logyn was belly laughing."

My dad, in the background, "She was bent over laughing."

"Yes," my mom said, "she was bent in half laughing. Then, your sister came in, saw what was going on, and said, oh great, now she's going to think she can throw these at people. And, you know, she'll probably hit a stranger. I'll have to say, Oh, sorry about that. It's just that she sees her grandparents do this all the time. Then, they'll think she's being raised in one of those houses."


Congratulations, Logyn Jane. You've survived your first year in one of those houses.