In the morning when Braeden was at work, Emma and Mark were weeding in the flower beds with me. I made them promise they'd never be 17 1/2.
Braeden is and it's too much.
He worked a lot of the day but in the time he was home, mid-day, we went to lunch at Alfy's. I ordered three pizzas to accommodate his favorites. He told me I made him feel really special and then I had him refill my soda because I didn't want him to feel that special.
This week he broke our couch by flopping his six foot three inch body on it and he left his clean laundry around one too many times so he is now the master of his own laundry domain.
He's not perfect.
He is pretty great though.
I love how friendly and happy and loyal Braeden is. He can be counted on to rise to the occasion when it matters most. He has a ready (and loud) laugh. He's kind to children and he is witty and bright and a creative speller.
And he's my boy.
For dinner he wanted to have the Jorgensens over. David came home from his mission to Taiwan this week which was a thrill around here. Here's maybe one of the best pictures I've ever seen, stolen from Facebook. It's Janet and David at the airport:
I cry every time I see this picture of my beautiful friend and her boy. It's a picture that captures a story. It's a story of a good and strong mother who loved her boy and let him go. She watched him soar then welcomed him back with gratitude and relief and a whole lot of love.
It's my favorite kind of story.
I had to convince my boys it was not OK to go visit David the afternoon he got home. Mark went anyway, under the guise of a bike ride. Just like Janet is my hero, David is theirs and how can I fault them for that? If my boys are going to want to emulate someone, David's a good choice.
When I saw David, I told him he was a sight for sore eyes. He was. I first met him on the day we moved in our house over ten years ago. He was there with his dad to help us. You've got to love someone who shows up to help you move.
We had a lovely dinner, chatting and laughing and just enjoying. As changeable as things can get, the Jorgensens and us, that won't change.
By the time Braeden and Leif returned from work, things got louder. It was the tall tan boys with their music and stories and laughter taking over the world. I loved it.
We sang happy birthday (and the Jorgensens' harmony classed us up a bit):
I should have taken more pictures. This one fills me up with joy though.
Happy half Birthday dear Braeden. I love you, even though you insist on growing up...