nine

Nine. The last of the single digits. Amongst all the dorkiness that comes with being a nine year old boy (ie: wiping dirty hands directly on anything other than a napkin and taking up more physical space than a herd of elephants) I love finding him in his quiet moments. Fittingly we ushered in nine in the quietness of a quaint French village. His big birthday present had been going to a football game in Spain. So the birth day we spent going to a nearby town (with the visiting grandparents) to poke around and get a birthday cake. It was pouring rain so the poking around was made difficult.

seven

We started the 7th birthday festivities the night before by choosing a cake and stopping by a candy emporium for a candy splurge! Buddy and Girl were overwhelmed by the choices and thrilled to be in the store. They each chose ten pieces of candy.  A forever memory for them and only a few euros for us.

The next day (her actual birthday) we decided to head to the waterpark a few cities away on the train, even though it was a Saturday and we knew it would be busy. When we arrived at the gate we were concerned.