Boo-boo's and Birthdays

Buckle up, folks. We've got lots to talk about today.

First, I promised that I would provide you with a picture of my hair emergency Alex's chin injury.

She wanted to tell you about it:

Well, all you can really see is her bandage. But I must give her kudos for not messing with it, picking at it, or getting it wet. We'll just hope for the best when it comes off.
Thankfully, today is the last day we have to keep it dry.

What I should have taken a picture of was the way I wrapped her chin in plastic wrap and taped it to her face and neck so that I could wash her hair the other day.
She looked like she was wearing a plasti-beard.

And not wanting to be left out, Derek wanted to tell you all about how, while we were walking into the hospital for Alex's chin to be re-checked, he got his arm wedged in a sliding glass door.

We are nothing if not a traveling side show.

Me: Hello, Doctor. Alex's chin seems to be fine. Not too much drainage, and she's not complaining about any pain. However on our way in, my son played chicken with the automatic doors out front and lost. Would you mind making sure that I didn't break anything when I pulled and tugged and yanked his arm out of it's stuck location? Thanks. 
Why, yes I do supervise my children. Why do you ask?

And then.
As if I wasn't traumatized enough at the goings on of our household...

My baby turned three.

Since I'm still pretending to be unsettled from our move 5 weeks ago, I didn't even have to make up an excuse as to why I didn't throw him a party.

As a general rule, children who have matriculated from my uterus do not get traditional kiddie birthday parties until they are 5.

Why?

Because parties:
- require advanced planning, which is not my strong suit
- require work and effort, also not my strong suits

Besides, they don't really even know that they aren't having a party, because we bribe some friends with pizza and cake into coming over and watching them open presents. More people in the background of photos give a party feel, as well as enhance the Happy Birthday song singing.

Facts about Derek's pseudo-party:

- I forgot to pick up birthday wrap, so I wrapped his presents in brown postal wrap and leftover Christmas paper.
- Derek loved blowing out his candle, until he saw the smoke coming from it and was utterly traumatized.

- Josh picked out a hot wheels race track set that he had way more fun playing with than any of the children.
- I did my best to make a Derek-friendly birthday cake, but cakes made without milk and eggs just don't hold together very well. So I went with the Three-Shaped Cupcake Egg(less)stravaganza.

Of which I did not get a picture until the bottom of the three was partially digested by my dear son. 

My sweet little man, who didn't even notice that he was eating a cupcake that needed a bowl and spoon while the rest of us had Cold Stone ice cream cake. 
My precious love-bug, who also didn't realize that he was eating plain whole wheat rotini while the rest of us were eating pizza.

All he knew was that the presents were all his to open.

Well, kind of.
His sister did hover to "help" and "show him how" to use his new toys.

Let's face it, this kid has a tough life.
I wouldn't be surprised if he traded up for a new family.
 

But we love every last inch of him, and all I ask is that nobody refer to him as a three year old for a little while. My heart can't take it.

And the rest of me can't take the fact that tomorrow is Fat Tuesday and there is half of of an ice cream cake in the freezer.
Go-go-gadget-willpower.