Last week our daughter turned twelve. We don't typically do birthday parties, but this year we caved in and allowed her to invite twelve giggling, squealing, sreaming 'tweens over for lemon cupcakes and a Wii dance party.
Things spoken during the festivities:
My husband was outside grilling hotdogs. He needed a plate from the kitchen. He said to me, "You go get it. Everytime I walk in there, they stop talking."
In hopes of joining the dance party upstairs, our eight-year-old son came downstairs and said, "Mom, check out these awesome dance moves I've been working on!" I quickly called a friend to come over and keep him company.
More than once, and from more than one attendee, I heard, "Taylor Lautner is so HAWT!"
Finally, as my husband and I were banned to the garage to enjoy our hotdogs and lemon cupcakes, he asked, "How did this happen? Why are WE the ones in the garage?"
I licked my strawberry frosting and said, "Welcome to the future. Get used to it."
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