Another teenager in the house! And another nice teenager, which is even better!
Dylan turned 13 and so, to celebrate, we held a "SCARY: Dylan's a TEENAGER!" party. He invited some friends, who were all taller than me and ate a lot. Yeah, those boys. They can put away the food. 5 pizzas, my friends. 5 pizzas.
For treats we had the severed hand, which 'bled' into the punch. . .
We had severed bloody finger cookies, some coming from witches. . .
And we had a variety of spooky cupcakes, instead of one big cake.
The boys watched The Village, and I could tell by their nervous laughter and chatter that they were appropriately scared. Which is good.
Dylan is one cool kid, I have to say. The older he gets, the more I genuinely like him and appreciate him. He's popular, but always kind. He's funny, but tender-hearted. He's chivalrous to girls and women, and he's fantastic with babies. He's smart and strong, and he's uncompromising in his standards. He goofs off, sometimes pushing the limits, but he can rein himself in, and feels adequate amounts of remorse when he's done something wrong. His conscience is a better caretaker than I am, which gives me great peace of mind. He's learning to control his silliness and need to be the class clown. He's learning to wield his developing manhood with wisdom and maturity. He has great ambition and vision for his future.
And he loves his mom. Despite being a teen, he has no problem unabashedly telling me so anytime, anywhere. . .with hugs and kisses, and opened car doors. He'll even carry my purse for me. He's gonna make a great husband one day, when I'm done with him.
Happy Birthday, my Dylan-boy!
Congratulations on your very first armpit hair. That one on the left. Awesome. You're on your way after such a long wait.