13

So...this week I became the parent of a teenager. Aidan turned 13, started high school, and, strangely enough, I seem to be the only one stressed out about it. He's just fine. Which is sort of how parenting goes for me most of the time.

To celebrate Aidan's 13th birthday, a few things were in order.

First, we had to get a little goofy. Get it? Goofy? Never mind. (I just had to take a little trip down memory lane.)

Second, a celebratory breakfast of Eggs Benedict. Eggs Benny is my speciality. Come on over for brunch and I'll prove it.

Presents. He got stuff. Boy stuff. Books and games that mostly involve maiming and killing. I kinda miss the days when I could buy him Thomas the Tank Engine and Bob the Builder.

Then I had a nap. And he hung out and then we went for dinner, all of which I didn't take pictures of. But I did get pictures of the cake. Mustard, relish and ketchup and all.


Don't you think every 13 year old boy should have a hamburger cake? Surprisingly, it tasted really good and not at all like ground beef. Thanks Thriftys.

And thanks Aidan, for being such an epic son. For 13 years.