Poor planning... with great results

I am a planner. Since you already know I fight perfectionist tendencies, this should perhaps not come as a surprise. I knew how old I wanted to be when I got married. Check. How many years before our first child. Check. Second child. Check. Third child. Check.

What I did not figure out... December birthdays make for a rough month.

(I also didn't plan on child number 3 having massive food allergies. That, however, is a story for another time.)

JackJack (or as he likes to insist, "Jack Jack Einsteins") turned two in early December. Two! I have got to stop calling him 'the baby'. He's a little boy...


This is his actual birthday. His full-out birthday party with aunts and uncles came a few days later. He got his very favorite, gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. A little sandy for my taste, but I think he ate 4.

We sang Happy Birthday to him about 15 times that day. Now, whenever he hears the tune, he lights up. Then, when he realizes it's not for him, he scowls and says, "MY turhn!"

What can I say? His nickname IS JackJack.